Squib Apprentice
by Ozma
Summary: NOW UPDATED. Filch meets his first cat. A flashback story about Filch's time as apprentice caretaker. Featuring appearances by young Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall and Tom Riddle.
1. Browly

Squib Apprentice  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts  
Chapter One: Browly  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
(Special Thanks to Rabbit and Jinx, who let me borrow a bottle of their  
Ella's Enchanted Everkleen!)  
  
  
  
  
"Argus Filch is hungry?"   
  
"No," I said, miserably, keeping my face buried in my pillow. My   
words were muffled and barely audible.  
  
The house-elf heard me anyhow. A house-elf's ears are as sharp as   
they are large.  
  
"Argus Filch is thirsty, then?" The little creature asked me.  
  
"No," I mumbled, untruthfully. My throat felt as dry as sandpaper.   
But I wanted to be alone.   
  
The house-elf wasn't leaving. I heard the soft clunk of a tray   
being set down on the floor by my bed.  
  
Then I felt the bed move slightly. The little creature was   
suddenly right beside me.  
  
She patted my head gently.  
  
"Poor boy! Browly knows that he is not meaning to be so bad."  
  
At nineteen, I was older than the oldest of the Castle's students.   
If I'd been a proper wizard then I'd be considered of age in the   
Wizarding world. But Squibs have no real place in our world, and I could   
never truly come of age as a wizard. So Browly wasn't wrong when she   
called me a boy.  
  
The elf's kindness brought on the tears I'd been holding back. It   
was like a dam breaking.   
  
The house-elf smoothed my hair and made comforting sounds while I   
wept.  
  
"Browly, I swear that I closed up that bottle of Ella's Enchanted   
Everkleen tightly!" I choked. "I really did! And even if I *had* been   
careless enough to leave the bottle open, I would NEVER have left it   
balanced right on the edge of the shelf!"  
  
The storeroom had been such a dreadful mess. Broken glass   
everywhere and Everkleen in a puddle on the floor. And thousands of tiny   
bubbles, each containing a tiny warbling charwoman, every last one of   
them shrilling a chorus of some unbearable song about a nightingale, had   
completely filled the small room, along with the overpowering scent of   
primroses.  
  
Looking furious enough to breathe dragon-fire, Apollyon Pringle,   
Castle Caretaker and my master for all of a fortnight, had ordered me to   
clean up the storeroom.   
  
When I'd finished he'd dragged me down to his office. He was   
holding his belt coiled in one hand and tapping it meaningfully against   
his other hand.  
  
"That Everkleen's EXPENSIVE stuff, boy!"  
  
My parents had believed in long, earnest lectures. But Mr. Pringle   
took a more physical approach to teaching life's hard lessons.  
  
When Mr. Pringle had finished expressing his displeasure over the   
spilled Everkleen and the mess in the storeroom he'd gone on to make his   
views plain on a number of other things that I'd done wrong. And he'd   
let me know, in no uncertain terms, that these mistakes were never to be   
repeated.  
  
It seemed that yesterday, I'd misplaced an entire toolbox. He   
still hadn't found it. "Tools must ALWAYS be returned to their proper   
places!"   
  
The day before yesterday I'd knocked over and chipped a statue of   
Winnifred the Woebegone while dusting. "Always pay attention to what   
you're doing!"   
  
On the same day, I'd nearly knocked Pringle himself down the   
stairs while helping him carry a ladder. "Always watch where you're   
going!"  
  
"Circe's Pigs, Filch!" The caretaker had growled. "Isn't it bad   
enough that Headmaster Dippet had to send me a Squib for my apprentice?   
Why in Merlin's Name did he have to choose one who's careless and clumsy   
and completely incompetent into the bargain?"  
  
"Listen, boy," Pringle had continued, grimly, "it may be that only   
one of us will survive your apprenticeship! At the moment I'd say the   
odds are in your favor. I'm not a well man!"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir..." I'd mumbled.   
  
It had seemed the safest thing to say.  
  
"SORRY!?!" He'd snarled. "Does "sorry" sweep up the glass and mop   
up the puddles?"  
  
"N-no, sir..."  
  
"Don't ever be SORRY, Filch! Just learn to work hard and do what I   
tell you!! In the likely event that your ineptitude is enough to put me   
into an early grave, it's important that Hogwarts Castle is left in GOOD   
hands! Now, do something right for a change and get yourself out of my   
sight!"  
  
*******  
  
"I'm sure that I put his toolbox back on the shelf exactly where   
he told me it should go," I told Browly. "I don't know how it got lost!   
And, that statue that fell...? I-I hardly even bumped it!"   
  
Sniffling, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.  
  
"Almost knocking him down the stairs with the ladder... well, that   
really was my fault," I confessed, sadly.   
  
"I've never carried such a big ladder up so many stairs before. I   
didn't mean to be clumsy! I truly don't want to hurt the old man, let   
alone put him in his grave! It's just that the ladder was so heavy..."  
  
Rather gingerly, I sat up to accept the cup of pumpkin juice that   
the house-elf was offering me. The cool drink soothed my throat.  
  
"Do you think that Mr. Pringle will have me dismissed?" I asked.   
My voice quivered.  
  
"Browly cannot say for certain. But Apollyon Pringle is waiting so   
very long for an apprentice caretaker. Browly is hoping that sir will   
give Argus Filch another chance before he is wanting to send poor boy   
away."  
  
"I can't afford to make any more mistakes," I said, miserably. "He   
mustn't send me home. My poor parents... they were so proud of me when I   
was given this chance. What would they say to me if I was sent away from   
the Castle in disgrace? How could I ever face them?"  
  
Browly patted my hand. The elf looked thoughtful. "Sir is wanting   
to be a good boy," she said, gently. "Browly is seeing this plainly. It   
may be that the clumsiness and accidents is not Argus Filch's fault at   
all."  
  
"I don't understand," I said.  
  
"Argus Filch should be resting now. Tis a new day tomorrow. And   
maybe Browly can be helping Argus Filch."  
  
*******  
  
"Cursed brats!" Pringle snarled. "Gorging themselves into a stupor   
on sweets from home, and then going off to be sick in dark corners! It's   
an absolute disgrace! Inconsiderate little wretches!! At the very least,   
whoever did this could have tried a little harder to make it all the way   
to a toilet! If I had my way, I'd forbid all the families from sending   
their brats sweets from home!"  
  
He paused to glower at me.  
  
"What's the matter with you, Filch? You're positively green!"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, I-I've never cleaned up another p-person's..."  
  
"Well, you'd better get used to it then, hadn't you!"  
  
Thrusting a mop into my hands, Mr. Pringle stalked off down the   
corridor.  
  
Swallowing hard and averting my eyes from the reeking pile of   
vomit, I leaned against the wall. A suit of armor which was near me   
began to shake.  
  
Right before my horrified eyes, the whole thing simply fell to   
pieces! It made an incredible noise. And the helmet landed right in the   
puddle of sick...  
  
What had made the armor fall? I hadn't even touched it! Aghast, I   
waited for Pringle to come storming back to scold me about my   
clumsiness. But, apparently, he was out of earshot.   
  
Trying not to breathe too deeply, I picked up the helmet as   
carefully as I could and dipped it into my scrub bucket to wash it   
clean. Clouds of tiny charwomen rose like miniature valkyries, warbling   
sweetly.  
  
I had no idea how to go about putting a suit of armor back   
together again...  
  
Deciding to deal with one problem at a time, I mopped up the pile   
of vomit, too upset about the broken armor to gag at the stench. Then,   
carrying the bucket of dirty water, I went to the nearest broom cupboard   
to rinse out my things.  
  
With a sound like whip-crack, Browly appeared in the broom   
cupboard the moment I opened the door.  
  
I wanted to ask the house-elf if she knew anything about fixing   
suits of armor, but she was scowling fiercely.  
  
"Oh! Bad!" Browly hissed, "Is very bad! Not you, silly Argus   
Filch!" She added, when I flinched. "Is HIM!"  
  
The house-elf shook a tiny fist at the empty air behind me.  
  
I didn't have time to ask her who she meant. A small man had   
appeared, floating in mid-air in the corridor just outside the broom   
cupboard. He was cackling wickedly.  
  
"Peeves!" Browly shouted, stamping her foot. "Why is you getting   
poor Argus Filch in so much trouble?"  
  
"Wh-what is that?" I asked, wide-eyed. I'd already met some of the   
Castle's ghosts. They were grey and transparent. And they made the air   
grow cold around them. This little floating man wasn't like that at all.  
  
"It doesn't seem quite like a proper ghost..." I said.  
  
The creature's nasty little eyes glittered.   
  
"Oh, so I'm an `It' am I? And a `That' too? Fine beginning! What   
is THAT, then? Surely, IT doesn't seem quite like a proper wizard! IT's   
been here for over two weeks now and IT hasn't done a single spell! Can   
IT be a Muggle?"  
  
Cupping his hands around his wide mouth, the little man began to   
shout, "Invaaasion!! Attaaaack!! Muggle in the Castle!!"  
  
"Bad Peeves!!" Browly shouted. "Be quiet!!"  
  
"I'm NOT a Muggle!" I yelled, furiously. "I'm a Squib!!"  
  
As it happened, neither Browly or Peeves had been making noise at   
that particular moment. My angry shout echoed loudly. The young witches   
and wizards, all resplendent in their black Hogwarts robes, were poking   
their heads out of doors up and down the corridor.  
  
My face flamed in humiliation. I wanted to crawl into a deep hole   
somewhere and stay there til I died.  
  
Peeves howled in glee. He rolled about in mid-air clutching his   
sides.  
  
"An ickle Squib, is it? What fun!!"  
  
Hissing, Browly grabbed a dust-cloth from a sack in the broom   
cupboard. Dipping it into my bucket filled with vomit-water too   
repulsive now to produce any singing bubbles, she flung the soiled,   
dripping cloth at Peeves.  
  
SPLAT! She caught the wretched creature in the head.  
  
"You is the one who is hiding Pringle's toolbox!!" Browly cried.   
"You is knocking down statues and suits of armor! You is leaving bottles   
open and balanced on the edges of shelves! Bad, BAD Peeves!!"   
  
"Bad house-elf!" Peeves retorted, venomously. (Apparently he   
didn't like getting hit in the head with disgusting dust cloths very   
much.) "Good house-elves are supposed to be quiet! This one is rude and   
loud! Maybe it's really a Goblin, eh? Little Goblin wants Pringle's   
tools, does she? Well, she can have them!"  
  
Poor Browly squealed in pain as a rain of hammers, screwdrivers   
and wrenches began to fall all around her.  
  
"Leave her alone, you foul thing!" I bellowed.  
  
Before I knew what I was doing, I'd picked up the scrub bucket.   
Then I flung the filthy water at Peeves.  
  
Shrieking in revulsion, the creature vanished. Most of the foul   
water went through the place where he'd been floating. The putrid mess   
splashed all over someone who'd come up behind Peeves to see what all   
the noise was about.  
  
I stared in horror at Apollyon Pringle.  
  
The caretaker's stunned expression slowly turned livid. He reached   
out a gnarled hand, befouled with dirty water, and grabbed me by the   
ear.  
  
  
  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Jelsemium and I are working on "Squib Summer" but I had   
this little plot idea that wouldn't leave me alone. This story will be a   
short one, probably only two chapters long.  
  
Again, my thanks to Rabbit and Jinx, who came up with the wonderful   
Ella's Enchanted Everkleen! Everyone should go and read Rabbit and   
Jinx's stories!!  
  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter Twelve of "Squib Caretaker!"  
  
Sarince: Thank you!! The Egyptian blessing is real. The first time I   
ever heard it used was on the TV series "Babylon Five." I've thought it   
was cool ever since.  
  
ThePet: Thank you!! I try hard, but sometimes it's difficult to know if   
I'm striking the right balance with all the characters. I really   
appreciate the kind words!  
  
Alla: Thank you!!  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! Yes, the Castle itself would resist allowing Snape   
to enter certain places.  
  
I'm rather fond of purple myself. I chose purple as Mrytle's favorite   
color because it seems to be a favorite of many of the young girls I   
know. Myrtle's bathroom is described as being dingy and lit by candles   
in holders. Putting in some nice torches for Myrtle is the least that   
Filch can do.  
  
Demeter: Thank you!!  
  
Snapefan51: Thank you!! Well, my break didn't last too long...  
  
Saint Fool: Thank you!! Purple really does seem to be a popular color!!  
  
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! Filch's meeting with Petunia and Dudley is   
already written, and it was a lot of fun for me! (I don't think Filch,   
Petunia and Dudley enjoyed the meeting too much.)  
  
minnowgirl: Thank you!! That's an excellent point about the dangers of   
leaving the Door forms around. I hadn't considered that. Hmmm. (Ozma   
pauses to think and watches the plot bunnies frolic...)  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!   
  
Darklady sent me an e-mail describing the most absolutely gorgeous   
purple bathroom! It would be expensive and time-consuming for Filch to   
do, but Myrtle would probably LOVE it. And Harry, Ron and Hermione's   
jaws would just drop when they saw it.  
  
aniwda: Thank you!!  
  
Liz: Thank you!! I like the idea about all Libraries being connected!   
  
AET: Thank you!! Callandra can accompany Filch through any Door without   
getting sick, but she can't summon the Doors on her own or ask them to   
take her to specific places.  
  
Larania: Thank you!! I did have a fragmentary plot idea about Filch   
showing Harry the Keep, which may work its way into a story.  
  
Yes, under usual circumstances only red-and-gold can go to the Keep,   
only blue-and-copper can go to the Library, only black-and-yellow can go   
to the Weaver's Room. And only green-and-silver can go to Salazar's   
OTHER chamber, (the one that Filch doesn't know about yet.) But, the   
Doors aren't the only paths into the Castle's Secret places.  
  
Filch wouldn't even consider asking a Door to go to the wrong sanctuary.   
But, an Heir with sufficient strength of will could order their Door to   
go to the Sanctuaries of the other Founders.   
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! I loved your description of Myrtle at a   
Hufflepuff party!  
  
Cassandra Cassidy: Thank you!! I'm honored that you want to draw the   
Secret Chambers! 


	2. Apollyon Pringle

Squib Apprentice  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts  
Chapter Two: Apollyon Pringle  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Apollyon Pringle was fond of saying that he wasn't a well man. I   
knew from painful experience that he was a good deal stronger than he   
looked. Particularly when he was angry, which seemed to be most of the   
time.  
  
The old Caretaker was in a dreadful rage at the moment. His grip   
was threatening to tear my right ear from my head.  
  
To be honest, I couldn't blame Mr. Pringle. If my apprentice had   
just tossed a scrub-bucket full of water, used to clean up someone's   
sick, all over me then I would have been furious too.  
  
"Filch," Mr. Pringle snarled as he dragged me after him into his   
office. "Do you understand that we do NOT fling buckets of filthy water   
about? EVER? No matter WHAT the provocation?"  
  
"Yes, sir," I gasped, clutching at my numbed ear. "I understand.   
I'm terribly sorry!"  
  
"What have I told you about being SORRY, boy!"  
  
"I'm sorry!" I said again, not knowing what else to say. Then I   
shut up.  
  
I'd been Pringle's apprentice for a fortnight. I thought I knew   
what he was going to do now. First he'd unbuckle his leather belt. Next   
he'd tell me, "pain is the best teacher." And then, he would proceed to   
demonstrate.  
  
Trembling, I waited for the old man to pronounce my sentence. But   
he only stood there, glowering. He didn't say a word.  
  
The students feared Mr. Pringle even more than I did. With good   
reason. I'd heard the young witches' and wizards' screams when he   
punished them. Pringle had a cat o' nine tails that he used on the   
students. And he kept manacles and heavy chains in his office, hung on   
the wall.   
  
Would he use those things on me now...?  
  
When Pringle continued to remain silent, apparently trying to get   
himself under control, a dreadful possibility occurred to me. A   
punishment that would be even more devastating to me than being chained   
up or beaten.  
  
"Please...?" My voice shook. "A-Are you going to have me sent   
away?"  
  
"Dismissed, you mean?" The old man asked me, harshly. "Is that   
what you want?"  
  
I thought I might be sick. "No, sir, please...! I can't go back   
home! I'll try to do better! Please!"  
  
Pringle ran a gnarled hand through his hair, grimacing at the   
smell. "Merlin's TEETH, I need a bath..." he growled. Then he sighed.  
  
"Who said anything about having you dismissed, Filch?"  
  
"N-no one, Mr. Pringle. But I've been doing everything wrong. And   
I-I thought..."  
  
"If I could send anyone away, it'd be Peeves!" Pringle growled. "I   
heard what the house-elf said. Peeves was the one who took my toolbox,   
chipped the statue and spilled my Everkleen!"  
  
The old man sighed again, visibly wrestling with his temper. "You   
haven't got enough magic to turn cream into butter, you've got ten   
thumbs on your hands where you should have fingers, and I've never seen   
anyone who can get lost in the Castle as easily as you manage to do! But   
it appears that none of the things that I blamed you for yesterday were   
actually your fault."  
  
"I did almost knock you down the stairs with a ladder..." I said,   
not wanting him to remember that detail later and grow furious all over   
again.  
  
Pringle shook his head. His anger had faded, but he was still   
scowling.   
  
"You're not a very bright lad, Filch," he said, after a moment.   
"But you're an honest one, which is a rare enough thing. No, I won't be   
sending you away. Merlin help us both."  
  
Weak with relief, I sagged against his desk.  
  
The old man studied me for a long moment.  
  
"Was living with your Mum and Dad as bad as all that?" He asked   
me, gruffly.   
  
"Oh, no, sir!" I was ashamed of myself for having given him the   
wrong impression.   
  
"I miss my parents," I said, earnestly. "And I miss being at home.   
It's just that, well, Mum and Dad have always been worried about what's   
going to become of me."  
  
Explanations were probably unnecessary. But I wanted him to   
understand.   
  
"Years before I was born, my Mum and Dad knew someone who was a   
Squib like me," I continued softly. "Gerrity. I don't know if that was   
his first name or his last. He was a tramp who wandered about doing odd   
jobs, sometimes even for Muggles. When he couldn't find work to do, he   
would go begging. Gerrity froze to death, sleeping out of doors. It was   
early spring. No one knew there'd be snow."   
  
"Mum and Dad were so glad when I was given this chance. They don't   
mention Gerrity much, but I know that they think about him. And when we   
found out what I was..." my voice shook.  
  
"They want to know that I'll always have a roof over my head and   
enough to eat. I don't want to make them worry about me all over again,   
just when they thought I was settled. Thank you for letting me stay,   
sir. You won't be sorry!"  
  
"Hmmph. I'd better not be," Pringle muttered, gruffly. He rubbed   
at his eyes, then grimaced agin.   
  
"I'm not a well man," he said, taking refuge in his familiar   
refrain. "I won't be able to bear too many weeks like this one has been.   
Give me your word. No more hurling slop-water at Poltergeists, eh?"   
  
I gave him my word.   
  
"A Poltergeist?" I asked, a moment later. "Is that what Peeves   
is?"  
  
"Yep." Pringle settled into the chair behind his desk. "Haven't   
you ever met one before?"  
  
I shook my head.  
  
"This Castle has stood for nearly a thousand years," he said.   
"Think on it. All those centuries of adolescent witch-brats and wizard-  
brats with all their fears, their mischief, their uncontrolled powers   
and their nasty little urges soaking into the walls!"  
  
"That sort of thing leaves a foul residue. And, near as I can   
figure, that loathsome little creature is the result. Hmmph! If anyone   
wants proof that the brats are evil to the core, well, Peeves is it!"  
  
"And, if it was up to me," the Caretaker went on, "I'd have Peeves   
Exorcised, and good riddance! But the Headmaster says "he's always been   
here," and that's the end of it."  
  
Pringle waved me toward his office's other chair.   
  
When I sat down, quite gingerly, the old man gave me a look that   
was almost sympathetic.  
  
"By rights, I ought to beat you for dumping that water on me," he   
said. "But you didn't deserve the beating you got yesterday. We'll say   
that your account is settled, for now."  
  
His bushy, iron-grey eyebrows lowered threateningly. "Filch, so   
help me, if you ever breathe a word to anyone that I let you off... I'll   
hang you up by your thumbs."  
  
"I won't tell," I said. "I promise."  
  
"As far as everyone else in this Castle is concerned, I've just   
thrashed you within an inch of your life. I've got a reputation to   
uphold, I do."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Pringle studied me for a few moments in silence. "I didn't want to   
take you on," he said, gruffly. "I suppose I've made that much pretty   
plain."  
  
"Yes, sir," I said, softly.  
  
"I thought you'd be completely useless. But you're not afraid to   
work hard, I'll say that much."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"You don't have to keep calling me `Sir." I'm not a professor, am   
I? Call me `Mr. Pringle.'"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Pringle."  
  
He frowned. "I won't lie to you. I have my doubts that you'll ever   
be a proper caretaker. I don't see how you'll manage. There's a lot of   
things that need doing in this Castle that you simply need magic for! I   
still don't know what the Headmaster was thinking when he took you on.   
Hogwarts is a grand place, Filch. Old and deep, full of secrets and   
mysteries from the deepest dungeon to the tallest tower. But, make no   
mistake, it's full of dangers, too. And it'll be worse for you, being   
what you are. Keeping the brats safe and out of trouble is one of my   
responsibilities. And now I've got to make sure that I keep you safe   
too. Even if it kills me! And it probably will..."  
  
His frown deepened.  
  
"I never would have expected Peeves to choose you as a target.   
Normally, he picks on the students and leaves the staff alone."  
  
"Sir, what should I do about the Poltergeist?" I asked   
plaintively.  
  
"You? There isn't much you can do. I'll have a word with the   
Baron. You do remember the Baron? I introduced you to him in the   
dungeons, on your first day."  
  
I nodded, shuddering.  
  
"Peeves is terrified of him."  
  
"How sensible of Peeves," I thought.  
  
"I'll ask the Baron to keep an eye out for you. We can't have the   
Poltergeist annoying the staff, can we?"  
  
"No, sir. I mean, Mr. Pringle."  
  
I smiled, tentatively and the old man gave me a grimace that   
actually had smile-like overtones. Then, standing up and sliding his   
wand out of his pocket, he sent a small wave of magic towards a kettle   
on his desk.  
  
"I'm going to go and have a bath now, Filch. You stay here and   
have some tea."  
  
"But, Mr. Pringle, what about the corridor upstairs? The bucket   
and the dirty water I threw? I should go clean up the mess..."  
  
Exasperated, Pringle glared at me. "Not now, Filch."  
  
I was confused.   
  
"Don't be so thick, boy!" The old man said, gruffly. "Consider my   
reputation! You're indisposed at the moment. Remember, you've just been   
beaten black and blue for the second time in two days. I'd wager there's   
a whole corridor full of brats laying odds against your survival, even   
as we speak!"  
  
"Intimidation," he whispered, confidentially, leaning towards me.   
"It's the best way I know of, to keep the brats in their proper place."  
  
His voice deepened to a threatening growl. "But, if you're having   
some difficulty in following my line of reasoning, then your new bruises   
can always be genuine ones."  
  
I shook my head, quickly.  
  
*******  
  
Apollyon Pringle went to take his bath. After a decent interval   
which included time for a cup of tea, I crept slowly back up to the   
corridor where I'd thrown the dirty bucket.   
  
The corridors still had a few black-robed students hurrying to   
class. I kept my head low and didn't meet anyone's eyes. The thought of   
the young witches and wizards making bets on how bad my punishment had   
been was humiliating.  
  
I was scrubbing the floor when Browly appeared beside me. The   
house-elf flung her arms tightly around my neck.  
  
"Poor Argus Filch!"  
  
"Ow! Browly, don't!"  
  
The little creature let go immediately. "Apollyon Pringle is   
beating you again?" Browly asked sadly.  
  
I couldn't bear to lie to her. But I didn't dare break my promise   
to the Caretaker either. How should I answer?  
  
"It was nothing worse than I deserved," I said, after a moment.   
  
"At least Mr. Pringle saw what Peeves was doing," I comforted her,   
quickly. "And he heard and believed what you said about the Poltergeist.   
He knows I didn't break or lose his things. And he said that he won't   
send me away if I work hard and try to be good. Thank you for helping   
me, Browly. Are you all right?"  
  
The house-elf nodded.   
  
"I was afraid that Peeves had hurt you with all those heavy   
tools!" I said.  
  
"Browly is fine," she said. "And armor is not needing fixed any   
more."   
  
"Thank you, Browly! You haven't seen Peeves anywhere about, have   
you?" I asked.  
  
She shook her head, solemnly. "The Baron," she said, in hushed   
tones. "He is come to look for Peeves! Wicked Poltergeist is hiding. So,   
Peeves is not bothering Browly or Argus Filch for a while."  
  
I smiled.  
  
"Is Argus Filch wanting Browly's help with this floor?"  
  
I shook my head. "No, you have enough work to do, Browly. This is   
my job!"  
  
  
  
  
  
End of Chapter Two  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
Saint Fool: Thank you!! Pringle does have a nasty temper. Some of it is   
bluster. (Not much, but some.)  
  
Rabbit and -v-Jinx-v-: Thank you!! Pringle didn't suspect Peeves of   
harassing Filch, because the Poltergeist rarely bothers the staff. (In   
"Prisoner of Azkaban" Rowling mentions that Peeves usually respects the   
teachers, at least.)  
  
Apollyon Pringle voices my guess as to Peeves' nature in this chapter.   
I've read that Poltergeists are supposedly manifested by the psychic   
energies of adolescents who are under some sort of stress. A Castle   
filled with young witches and wizards who are learning how to use their   
magic is probably an excellent breeding ground for poltergeists. No   
wonder Peeves is such a persistent nuisance.  
  
I have a theory about Filch and Peeves. If Poltergeists are fed and   
nurtured on psychic energy, then maybe Filch's untapped magic and his   
energetic rages make him particularly "delicious" to Peeves. Which could   
be why the Caretaker is Peeves' favorite target.  
  
Filch's bitterness has a number of sources, but Pringle isn't really to   
blame for too much of it. Pringle was a harsh old man, but he did care   
for his apprentice, in his way. Filch is proud of having eventually   
earned the old caretaker's trust, because it wasn't easy to do.   
  
I grew up listening to my father and uncles happily trading "war-  
stories" about how often they were beaten while they were growing up.   
They would laugh about things that utterly horrified me. Having endured   
so many harsh punishments seemed to be a point of pride with them. And   
they adored my grandparents and wouldn't hear a word against them. I can   
see Filch having that sort of attitude about Pringle.  
  
Elektra: Thank you!! From the little that we know of Pringle, as he was   
briefly described in "Goblet of Fire," he was a terror to the students.   
But I chose to see him as protective of his apprentice, even if he   
believed in physical punishment.  
  
There's a third chapter, with Hagrid, in the works...   
  
As for Minerva and Tom, Filch was being honest when he told Myrtle that   
he rarely noticed the students as individuals when he first came to   
Hogwarts. He was too busy learning how to take care of the Castle. Of   
course, he probably did see both Minerva and Tom.   
  
In Minerva's case, he would have noticed how pretty she was. (Then he   
would have looked away nervously, and promptly tripped over his own feet   
or walked into a wall.)   
  
In Tom's case, Filch might have sensed something hurtful hanging like a   
cloud around the handsome boy. But Filch would have been too   
inexperienced to understand what his senses were telling him. Filch   
didn't know that there was anything special about his senses when he was   
young. Tom would have frightened him, but he never would have been able   
to explain why.  
  
Thank you for commenting on Chapter Twelve of "Squib Caretaker!! Wow,   
you sure have a busy schedule!! I do have bits and pieces of ideas for   
the Secret Chambers, and for the Alchemist's Door. (A lot of what I   
write will depend on developments in Rowling's future books, since I try   
to follow canon as close as I can, barring unforeseen circumstances.   
There's always a chance that I've contradicted something important   
already. In which case, I'll probably go on writing in an AU frame of   
mind.)  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! I figured that Filch and Peeves would have been at   
odds very early on.  
  
ahg: Thank you!!  
  
emma: Thank you!!  
  
Larania: Thank you!! In two of my earlier stories ("The Squib and the   
Death Eaters" and "To Save a Squib") Filch got to use some magic. In the   
latter story, he got to `borrow' Lucius Malfoy's powers. He had such   
fun! I keep hoping that Filch will be the character that Rowling   
mentioned, who will "learn to do magic quite late in life."  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! And Howdy, pardner! Hopefully, I'll be able to   
make Pringle a three-dimensional person. I see him as a failed wizard   
who has low-magic levels and didn't do well on his tests. His attitude   
towards the students is quite a lot like the one that Filch eventually   
develops. But, he tries to be what he considers "fair" to his   
apprentice. And he does do his best to look out for him. 


	3. Hagrid

Squib Apprentice  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma   
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts   
Chapter Three: Hagrid  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
"Don't try to shift *all* the cursed snow at once, Filch!" Pringle   
snapped. "You'll be of no use to me with a broken back."   
  
The old caretaker moved briskly as he flung a small shovel-full of   
snow off to the side of the path that we were digging.   
  
"Pace yourself, boy. This stuff's the worst sort of snow; dense   
and wet. Lift only a bit at a time."  
  
The sun hadn't yet risen, but the Castle grounds seemed lit by a   
pale, ghostly light. It was the beginning of December, and nearly two   
feet of snow had fallen during the night.   
  
The Professors and the students were presumably still asleep in   
their beds. But Ogg, the groundskeeper, Hagrid, Ogg's apprentice, a   
contingent of house-elves, Mr. Pringle and I were all hard at work,   
digging out paths to the greenhouses and to the groundskeeper's cottage.   
The students would not have to tramp through two feet of snow to reach   
their morning classes.  
  
The old man was right, it was easier for me to lift less snow at a   
time. But then I felt more conscious than ever of being the slowest   
worker.  
  
Mr. Pringle was using a small levitation spell to lighten the   
weight of his shovel. The fifteen house-elves who'd been recruited from   
the kitchens were working in a warm swirl of magic that made my nose   
itch. Their bright little shovels moved rapidly and tirelessly. Ogg, a   
short, burly wizard, had put a Heating Charm on his shovel.  
  
Hagrid wasn't using any magic, but he didn't really need to, I   
thought enviously. The boy worked as rapidly as the house-elves, with no   
signs of growing tired.  
  
When I first saw Hagrid, at a distance, I assumed that he was a   
grown wizard. It was only when I saw him close up that I realized how   
young he is. Surely, he couldn't be any older than fourteen or fifteen.   
I'd wondered why he wasn't at school with everyone else his age. He   
certainly wasn't a Squib! The magic in him was obvious.  
  
When I'd dared to ask Mr. Pringle about Hagrid, the caretaker   
hadn't said very much.  
  
"He's a bad one!" Mr. Pringle had muttered darkly. "Don't   
associate with him, Filch. Not any more than you have to."  
  
This was easier said than done. Hagrid and I often took our meals   
in the Castle's kitchens at the same time. The huge boy was friendly and   
talkative. Thus far, he'd been undiscouraged by my monosyllabic answers   
to his attempts at conversation.  
  
*******  
  
Sweating underneath my layers of clothing, fingers blistering, I   
gasped for breath as I tried to keep up with the others. I barely had   
enough energy to take offense at the sympathetic look I saw on Hagrid's   
childishly-rounded face.  
  
I scowled. I didn't want anyone's pity! Maybe I wasn't huge and   
strong. Maybe I couldn't do any magic, but I wasn't useless...  
  
Suddenly, my shovel seemed to weigh less. Wide eyed, I turned to   
look at Mr. Pringle, who had his wand clutched in one gloved hand.  
  
"Thank you, sir..." I panted.   
  
To be honest, I was more worried than grateful. In the months   
since I'd first come to Hogwarts, I'd learned that the caretaker was not   
an especially powerful wizard. He was adept at using what magic he had,   
but the flow of his powers tended to fluctuate widely. At the moment,   
keeping the Levitation spells on both our shovels was a strain for him.   
I could feel it.  
  
Mr. Pringle was always saying that he wasn't a well man, and that   
looking after me would be the death of him. Gradually, I'd realized that   
it was just something he liked to say. I didn't want it to be true...!  
  
But, the stern look on Ogg's craggy face kept me from refusing Mr.   
Pringle's help. The groundskeeper was perhaps the caretaker's only   
friend. Ogg knew Mr. Pringle's touchy pride, even better than I did.  
  
*******  
  
The last path that we completed was the one that led out to the   
groundskeeper's cottage at the edge of the Forest. When we'd finally   
finished, the house-elves (clad in warm, fluffy Hogwarts' bath towels,   
which fit them like winter cloaks,) vanished almost instantly. The whip-  
crack sound of their en masse departure sounded very loud in the crisp   
dawn air.  
  
Mr. Pringle and I leaned on our shovels. Both of us sighed. Hagrid   
was still bright-eyed and energetic. Ogg was studying Pringle with   
understated concern.  
  
"Care to come in for a wee drop?" The burly man asked the old   
caretaker in his gravelly voice. "We can have the lads put the shovels   
away, eh?"  
  
Pringle allowed himself to be persuaded.  
  
*******  
  
Carrying Pringle's shovel and my own, I stumbled after Hagrid as   
the huge boy strode easily along the path that we'd dug away from the   
tool shed. My arms, shoulders and back were aching.   
  
"Alrigh' there, Filch?" Hagrid asked, cheerfully.  
  
"Fine!" I gasped. "Never better! It's a pity that we were finished   
so soon. I was just getting started. Could have gone on shoveling for   
ages longer..."  
  
"Glad ter hear it..." Hagrid said. The hint of mischief in his   
voice really should have warned me. But, the snowball he flung at me   
came as a complete surprise.  
  
"Stop that!" I snapped, brushing snow off my coat.  
  
Hagrid's reply was to fling another snowball at me. The boy wasn't   
throwing as hard as he obviously could. It was a clear invitation to   
play.  
  
Foolishness, I thought, irritably. We had a busy day ahead of us,   
filled with work to do, and neither one of us had breakfasted yet. I   
didn't know about him, but I was cold, wet and weary. I really didn't   
have time for this childish nonsense...  
  
Then, his next missile smacked me in the face. I suddenly   
discovered new reserves of energy. Dropping the shovels, I leaned down   
and quickly gathered a handful of snow. The battle was joined.  
  
Yelling like a pair of first year brats, we alternately chased and   
pelted each other with snowballs. It had been ages since I'd played like   
this. I'd forgotten how much fun it was.  
  
"Yeh missed me!" Hagrid shouted, gleefully, as one of my snowballs   
sailed over his head. "How could yeh miss? Aren't I a big enough   
target...ooof!"  
  
My next throw had scored a direct hit.  
  
Whooping, Hagrid picked me up and rubbed snow in my hair. Since   
he'd been kind enough to give me a lift, I was able to retaliate by   
shoving a handful of snow down his back. Shrieking, he released me.  
  
We'd scrambled off the path, chasing each other along the edge of   
the Forest. Hagrid could move more easily through the deep drifts than I   
could, but I was still able to hit him plenty of times. The boy was   
right, he was a big target.  
  
Stumbling backwards to dodge an attack, I tripped over something   
behind me and went sprawling on my back into the snow.  
  
The `something' that I'd fallen over was growling.  
  
I heard Hagrid bellow "NO, BOB!"  
  
Something that looked like a large, long-legged dog was leaping at   
me. Stumbling through the snow, Hagrid caught the creature before it   
could bite.  
  
"Easy, Bob... it's alrigh'... yeh saw us having fun an' yeh just   
wanted ter play with us, didn' yeh?"  
  
He set the creature down, still holding it tightly.  
  
"H-Hagrid...?" I said in a very tiny voice, staring at the beast's   
sharp teeth before gazing into its intelligent yellow eyes. "That's not   
really a wolf... is it?"  
  
"'Course not!" The boy said.  
  
Thank Merlin, I thought.  
  
"Bob here is a werewolf!" Hagrid told me, brightly.  
  
*******  
  
"Filch...? I took Bob back ter the Forest. It's alrigh'. Now, say   
something, will yeh?"  
  
Hagrid had collected the shovels and locked them in the tool shed.   
All the while, I hadn't moved from my place in the snow.  
  
"Talk ter me, Filch!" Hagrid said, crouching next to me.  
  
"How...?" I whimpered. "How could that have been a werewolf...?   
There's no moon at all, let alone a full moon..."  
  
"Bob's not a human who got scratched or bitten. He's one of the   
four-legged werewolves. I've known him since he was cub. Playful, he is.   
Friendly too, at least if yeh don't go tripping over him."  
  
"Are you telling me that you PLAY with that... thing? One bite,   
one little scratch, and y-you'd...!"   
  
"Bob's never bitten or scratched me," the boy said, earnestly.   
"And, I know enough ter stay away from him during a full moon!"  
  
"Hagrid," I cried, my voice rising. "You go into the Forbidden   
Forest to play with werewolves?! Don't you know how dangerous that is?   
You're not even *allowed* in the Forest! Mr. Pringle..."  
  
"The Forest is off-limits ter the students. I'm staff." The boy   
sounded as if that made everything all right. "Pringle don't like it   
much, but he can't punish me now."  
  
"You're howling MAD!!" I wailed. "Surely your Mum and Dad must've   
told you never to play with werewolves!!"  
  
"As a matter o' fact, they didn'," Hagrid answered, a bit sharply.   
"Are yeh alrigh' now, Filch? Are yeh coming in ter breakfast?"  
  
"NO!"   
  
"Suit yerself, then. But, if yeh ask me, I'm not the one who's   
howling mad! Wasn't me who spent the past ten minutes just sitting in   
the snow, was it?"  
  
After the huge boy had stumped off along the path to the Castle, I   
finally picked myself up.  
  
Cold and trembling, I stumbled along the path to the   
groundskeeper's cottage.  
  
I didn't want to tell on Hagrid. Nevertheless, someone had to, for   
his own good.  
  
*******  
  
Groundskeeper Ogg let me in when I banged on his door. Two big   
mugs were resting on his scrubbed wooden table. But Ogg was alone.  
  
"Apollyon's gone back to the Castle," Ogg said, in his gruff way.  
  
"S-So has H-Hagrid." My teeth were chattering. Being in the   
cottage, which had a warm, cheerful fire going, made me realize how   
terribly cold I was.  
  
Ogg helped me tug off my wet coat. He put it to dry over the back   
of a chair near the fireplace. I stood close to the fire, shivering.  
  
The hut was warm and tidy, everything in its place. Ogg's bed was   
neatly made up, as was Hagrid's huge cot.  
  
"Is something wrong, lad?" Ogg asked.  
  
******  
  
The groundskeeper had rinsed out a mug for me. Sipping at   
something that burned its way down my throat, I told him about Hagrid   
and Bob-the-werewolf.  
  
"Well?" I asked. "Mr. Ogg, what are you going to do to him? He   
could be torn to pieces wandering around in the Forest like he does! He   
really ought to be punished! Mr. Pringle would...!"  
  
"Poor Apollyon," Ogg said. "He's just as glad that trying to keep   
Hagrid out of the Forest isn't his headache any longer. I'll have a word   
with Hagrid myself. Tell him to make sure that his ...friends don't   
follow him onto the Castle grounds, ever, even in the wee hours of the   
morning."  
  
"That's ALL you're going to do?" I cried, appalled. I'd already   
suspected that Ogg was much too soft-hearted to punish his apprentice.   
"Talk to him? It doesn't matter if he's staff or not, Hagrid's only a   
boy!"  
  
Ogg looked as if he thought that the difference between Hagrid's   
age and mine was negligible, which made me feel rather indignant.  
  
"You could at least write to his parents!" I said.  
  
"I can't, lad. They're ...gone. Professor Dumbledore, the   
Transfiguration Master, is the closest thing that Hagrid has to a   
guardian. I'll speak to him."  
  
I felt a flutter of fear in my stomach. I'd gotten Hagrid in   
trouble with a Professor! The Professors scared me even more than Mr.   
Pringle did.   
  
Well, it was no more than Hagrid deserved, I told myself. Served   
him right, really. Someone certainly ought to take that boy firmly in   
hand. I had no reason to feel guilty about this. None whatsoever!  
  
"Mr. Ogg?" I asked, apprehensively, as my conscience gave me a   
twinge anyhow. "The Transfiguration Master... he won't have Hagrid sent   
away, will he? If his parents are dead, where would Hagrid go?"  
  
"No, Filch. Don't fret. Hagrid won't be sent away."  
  
*******  
  
Hagrid was pale, red eyed and silent the next morning at   
breakfast. He poked aimlessly at his porridge, without eating it.   
Presumably, Ogg had spoken to the Transfiguration Master, and then the   
Professor had punished Hagrid.  
  
The poor boy looked as if he'd spent the entire night weeping his   
heart out. What had the Transfiguration Master done to him?  
  
Telling myself to *never* make Professor Dumbledore angry at me, I   
discovered that I didn't have much of an appetite for breakfast either.  
  
"It was for your own good..." I told Hagrid, as firmly as I could.   
It was very hard for me to listen to his desolate sniffling, even if   
he'd only gotten what he deserved. "Werewolves should stay in the   
Forest. And you should stay OUT of it."  
  
"Professor Dumbledore already tol' me everything that needed ter   
be said," Hagrid muttered, without looking at me. "The Professor is a   
great man, Filch, but yer a GIT. I've got nothing ter say ter yeh."  
  
"Fine!" I snapped. "You're an OAF. I've got nothing to say to you   
either."  
  
With a show of unconcern, I ate my breakfast, even if I wasn't   
hungry. Then I stormed out of the kitchen.  
  
  
  
End of Chapter Three  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: This is the last fully formed idea that I had for a   
chapter. I was going to end the story here, but I decided to leave it   
open ended in case of future ideas. (Who knows, maybe I'll give in to   
the temptation to show Filch encountering Minerva and Tom Riddle.)  
  
Four legged werewolves: Rowling mentions werewolves living in the   
Forest, and Tom Riddle describes Hagrid as "trying to raise werewolf   
cubs under his bed." To me, this suggested the existence of four-legged   
creatures, as well as the sort of Werewolf that Remus Lupin is. (Young   
Remus was quite definitely a boy, not a cub.) Presumably, humans can   
become infected by Lycanthropy when bitten or scratched by either sort   
of werewolf.   
  
  
Spark-Chick: Thank you!!  
  
The Amazing Maurice: Thank you for your kind words on all of my   
stories!! (Ozmarathon? Wow, I'm honored by the term!!)  
  
Rabbit and Jinx: Thank you!! Yes, Pringle is Filch's role model. It   
would definitely have been scary to be a student when it was permissible   
to beat kids for breaking the rules.   
  
I'd imagine that there's a lot of overlapping between the house-elves'   
job and the Caretaker's job. The Castle is huge, and it would take a lot   
of work to keep it all clean and everything running smoothly.  
  
Larania: Thank you!! I think of Peeves as being made of psychic energy,   
but also as being very much his own "person." He definitely has an ego   
and his own wants and desires. Not being invited to the Feasts clearly   
hurts his feeling terribly.   
  
He's been at the Castle long enough to be Noticed. Providing an outlet   
for the loose psychic energies of the students would be considered a   
necessary and useful function. (Not that Peeves is aware of what he's   
doing. He's not, ordinarily, an introspective creature. He's just having   
fun.)  
  
aniwda: Thank you!!  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!!  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! I love the image of Peeves drunk on out of   
control magic energy!! This is exactly how I see him.  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! Pringle tries to be what he considers "fair."   
  
In the first book, one of the ghosts (I think it's Nearly Headless Nick,   
though the speaker isn't identified,) says, in answer to the Fat Friar's   
remark that they ought to "give Peeves a chance" and let him come to the   
Welcoming Feast, "haven't we given Peeves all the chances that he   
deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even   
a ghost..." This was the line that got me thinking about Peeves' nature.  
  
Sarah: Thank you!! My take on Dippet is that he's traditional and kind-  
hearted. Peeves was in the Castle for centuries before Dippet's time.   
Dippet is aware of Peeves' function. If Peeves was to be exorcised,   
another Poltergeist would soon manifest. But Peeves has been the   
Castle's Poltergeist for centuries. He's traditional. Therefore, Peeves   
stays.  
  
Dippet was moved by Filch's parents' situation, and by their fears for   
Filch. Dippet hoped that Pringle would be able to work with the boy and   
teach him to be useful. When Filch actually turned out to be a good   
worker, Dippet was pleasantly surprised, since he was expecting to have   
to hire a second apprentice to take over the job when Pringle retired,   
while keeping Filch as a permanent assistant.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you, Pardner!! Hmmm. Argus meeting Mrs. Norris, eh?   
I've had several ideas about that, but none have actually flowed for me,   
yet. I'm leaving this story "open" so anything's possible. 


	4. Mosag

Squib Apprentice  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts  
Chapter Four: Mosag  
Everything in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
  
"Hagrid, You OAF!" I said, indignantly, from the kitchen floor.   
"Why'd you do that for?"  
  
"It was just a little nudge, yeh git. Didn' mean ter knock yeh   
clean off yer chair. I jus' wanted ter wake yeh. Yeh were fallin' asleep   
with yer head in yer breakfast. Again."  
  
"No, I wasn't!" I retorted, grumpily. "I was only resting my   
eyes."  
  
Picking myself up, I got back in my chair, trying to stay awake   
enough to eat my porridge.  
  
"Restin' yer eyes. Tell me another." Hagrid snorted.  
  
I was too busy yawning to reply.  
  
Today was a Delivery day. Hagrid and I had to be up at dawn with   
the house-elves. Helping the little creatures put away the Castle's   
kitchen supplies was one of our regular jobs.  
  
"Filch," the huge boy said, his tone a bit uncomfortable now. "Yeh   
really look terrible. Yeh're not sleepin' much, are yeh?"  
  
"None of your business..." I mumbled, around a mouthful of   
porridge.  
  
"S'not good fer yeh, stayin' up an' working most a' the night.   
Doesn't Old Pringle..."  
  
"That's `Mr.' Pringle to you!"  
  
Hagrid scowled. "Mr. Pringle then. Doesn't he want yeh in yer bed   
at night?"   
  
"That's where he wants the *students* to be," I snapped. "I'm   
staff!"  
  
For a moment, Hagrid looked as if he wanted to knock me off my   
chair again. Intentionally, this time. Then, his expression gradually   
changed to one of sympathy.  
  
"Filch," he said, his young voice gruff, "it's been over a week   
since it happened. They've forgotten all about it by now. The students,   
I mean. Yeh don' have ter keep doing most a' yer work at night, just ter   
avoid seeing 'em. It wasn't all the students who laughed at yeh, anyhow.   
It was jus' a few."  
  
I stared into my bowl, feeling the blood rush to my face.  
  
"It was nine days ago," I muttered. "And the story's all over the   
Castle and no-one's forgotten. You certainly haven't."  
  
The quiver in my voice shamed me. I wanted to be angry, but even   
after nine days, humiliation was all I could feel.  
  
*******  
  
I'd been sweeping the floor along the Charms corridor. Students   
had been hurrying by, or lining up for their classes. I'd been doing my   
work and minding my own business.   
  
There had been a sudden surge of magic. A young voice had spoken a   
spell.  
  
"Tarantallegra!"  
  
The spell had been aimed at me, but I didn't realize it. Not until   
it was too late. My legs had begun moving of their own accord. I was   
suddenly dancing down the corridor, twirling my broom on my arm as if it   
was a pretty witch-lass.  
  
There had no way to break the spell, no way to defend myself. I   
was a helpless puppet, a jigging ape, clowning for the students'   
amusement.  
  
There'd been a roar of noise all around me. Shrieks of laughter. A   
confused impression of a sea of grinning faces and black robes.   
  
I wanted to strike out at the laughing faces, but all I could do   
was dance and dance and dance.  
  
"Finite Incantem!"  
  
Another rush of magic. Another confused impression. My rescuer. A   
tall girl with long black hair, tied back with a tartan ribbon.   
  
She had the face of an angel. I saw pity in her grey eyes when she   
looked at me.  
  
When she released me from the spell that had forced me to dance, I   
fled, awkwardly stumbling over my own feet in my haste to get away.  
  
My work, my dustpan, my broom were abandoned. The laughing   
students and my rescuer were left behind.   
  
The shame stayed with me. I carried it still.  
  
*******  
  
Ordinarily, leaving my work undone would have earned me a beating.   
For the first time I felt no fear at the prospect. I was too numb to   
feel anything.  
  
Pringle found me in one of the broom cupboards. (Later, I wondered   
if he'd searched every broom cupboard in the Castle for me.)  
  
I was putting away supplies, working as slowly and clumsily as a   
zombie. The caretaker didn't beat me or even scold me. He simply picked   
up the things I'd dropped. He helped me turn the bottles and jars around   
so that their labels faced outwards. Together, we arranged the shelves   
neatly, everything in its proper place.  
  
When we'd finished with the supplies, Pringle helped me to break   
up the crates that were too battered to be used again. They'd be burned   
later, on the rubbish-heap.  
  
My body moved mechanically. I didn't have to think at all.  
  
Later, when I asked Mr. Pringle if I could possibly sweep and dust   
the corridors at night after the students were in bed, he told me that I   
could.  
  
*******  
  
"Filch," Hagrid said, even more gruffly than before. "You know   
there's things that's worse than bein' laughed at."  
  
"Yes, I suppose there are," I mumbled, staring into my porridge   
bowl. It was still mostly full. I was very tired and not especially   
hungry.  
  
"What happened ter yeh... well, it's the sort o' thing that we...   
I-I m-mean the students, do ter each other all the time. Fer a joke,"   
Hagrid said, earnestly. "Sometimes, even the ones who've had the spell   
put on 'em... they laugh too."  
  
Lifting my head, I gave him a look filled with misery.  
  
"Surely, yeh must've been laughed at before..."  
  
"Of course I have. It doesn't get any easier with practice."  
  
"Look, Filch, yeh've got ter show yer face again sometime," Hagrid   
said. "Yeh can't go on like this. Barely sleeping and doing yer work at   
night when no-one can see yeh! Yeh've still got work ter do in the   
morning, and yeh have ter be awake ter do it!"  
  
"The house-elves manage to work both day and night easily enough,"   
I yawned.  
  
"Yer not a house-elf! They don' need ter sleep as much."  
  
I wanted to tell the young oaf to mind his own business. But I was   
too busy putting my head down on the table.  
  
*******  
  
I must have dozed off. Hagrid and the elves had let me sleep. I   
woke to the sounds of squeaky elf-voices, and many heavy boxes and   
bundles being moved.  
  
"Lally! You is not ordering cinnamon AGAIN! Where is we going to   
put all these new bags? We is having no more room!"  
  
"If silly-headed Gillyflower is bothering to look at this weeks'   
menu she will plainly see cinnamon rolls on Wednesday, and cinnamon cake   
on Sunday morning!"  
  
"Here is pickles. We is not needing any more pickles! Where is the   
onions? Why is they not ever bringing our onions?"  
  
"Where is tea leaves? Hurry, we is needing them right away for   
Professors' breakfast..."  
  
"Someone is needing to fetch the cheeses..."  
  
Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes, then I rose and staggered into the   
noisy kitchen to help.  
  
*******  
  
The house elves were busy with breakfast preparations. The   
Castle's kitchen was filled with noise and bustle. But the big storeroom   
beneath the kitchen was dim, peaceful and quiet.  
  
Now that everything was put away, I'd given in to the temptation   
to rest my eyes again, just for a few moments. A sack of dried beans   
made a comfortable pillow.  
  
I was half-dozing, when I heard Hagrid's voice nearby.  
  
"Yeh alrigh' there, Mosag? I brought yeh some cheese, an' a piece   
of chicken..."  
  
A voice answered Hagrid. A strange, clicking voice. I couldn't   
understand what it said. But, the huge boy seemed to understand well   
enough, because he answered in a comforting tone.  
  
"I'm sure Aragog is jus' fine. Safe an' snug in his hollow. The   
snow's still too deep yet fer me ter take yeh ter him. In a day or two,   
maybe. He'll be so glad ter see yeh. He's bin lonely..."  
  
The strange, clicking voice said something else. It seemed a bit   
worried.  
  
"Well, o'course he'll like yeh. Yer jus' like him, 'cept yer   
prettier! Now, yeh've got ter get yerself back ter the cupboard.   
Nobody'll hear us over poor old Filch's snoring, but it's better ter be   
safe than sorry..."  
  
"Hagrid?" I called, woozily. "Who in Merlin's name are you talking   
to?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Hagrid...?"  
  
Groggily, I lifted my head off the sack of beans.   
  
Hagrid stumbled into view, dark eyes wide and startled.  
  
"I wasn't talking ter no-one."  
  
"Yes, you were. I heard you."  
  
"Yeh were dreaming, Filch," the boy said, gruffly. "Who could I be   
talking ter? No one's down here but us."  
  
  
To Be Continued.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
  
Snapefan51: Thank you!! And thank you for reviewing my older stories   
too!!  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! Hagrid and Filch get along, but they seem to have a   
rather prickly sort of relationship. Hagrid was annoyed at Filch for   
telling on him, but he did get over it.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you, pardner!! Tom Riddle is going to show up next   
chapter. Being rather fuzzy with math, I'm being vague about Hagrid's   
exact age and what years Tom and Minerva are in.  
  
Yes, Argus is lucky that he arrived after the Chamber of Secrets affair.   
He would have been vulnerable. (I contradicted myself here, since I've   
already had Myrtle mention that Argus was at Hogwarts when she was   
alive. I'm going to have to go back and fix that line in "Squib   
Caretaker.")  
  
Your comment on what four legged werewolves do during a full moon made   
me laugh! I needed a "friendly-Hagrid-thought-this-up" name for a   
werewolf, and the answer was sitting right in front me!  
  
I'd like to have Filch meet Dumbledore in some embarrassing way too.   
Poor Filch is already afraid of him.  
  
E: Thank you!! I have some ideas on how Filch and Mrs. Norris met, but   
none have turned into a complete story as of yet.  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! And thank you for the loan of Madam Valerian!!   
She'll be showing up next chapter.  
  
Pringle is quite incapable of seeing any similarities between his   
reputation and Hagrid's. Pringle sees himself as a punisher of wrong-  
doers, not as a wrong-doer himself.  
  
Filch will encounter Tom in the next chapter.  
  
You're absolutely right about what Dumbledore said to Hagrid. Albus told   
the boy that he was disappointed in him. The reprimand hit poor Hagrid   
like a rain of stones.  
  
Filch saw Hagrid's tears and assumed the worst. He can't imagine what   
dreadful thing the Professor must have done to make someone as big and   
strong as Hagrid cry all night. (Filch doesn't know yet what a soft   
heart Hagrid has.)  
  
Persephone Kore: Thank you!! Dumbledore was very grave and serious when   
he spoke to Hagrid. He talked about the safety of the other people at   
the school, and reminded Hagrid that many people were still frightened   
over the Chamber.   
  
When Dumbledore mentioned that, if Bob-the-werewolf had been caught by   
anyone else out of the Forest, then Ogg would have been forced to hunt   
Bob down with silver, Hagrid was heart-broken. When Dumbledore finished   
up by saying that he was disappointed in Hagrid, the poor boy felt lower   
than dirt.  
  
aniwda: thank you!!  
  
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! 


	5. A Riddle in the Dark

Squib Apprentice  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts  
Chapter Five: A Riddle in the Dark  
(Apologies to J.R.R. Tolkien)  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling,  
except for Madam Valerian,   
who has Alchemine's permission to come over and play.  
  
  
  
  
"Hagrid's right," I thought. "I can't go on like this."  
  
Nine days ago I'd been glad to get Mr. Pringle's permission to   
dust and sweep the Castle corridors at night. Not having to face the   
students was a relief. Unfortunately, working most of the night and then   
getting up early in the morning to go to work again was taking a toll on   
me.  
  
It was the middle of the afternoon. I was resting on the floor in   
front of the kitchen fireplace. I couldn't remember walking over to the   
hearth. The last thing I remembered clearly was sitting down for lunch.  
  
Around me, house-elves murmured in concern.  
  
"Poor boy. He is needing to rest."  
  
"If Apollyon Pringle is finding Argus Filch sleeping, then boy   
will be punished!"  
  
"Argus Filch must be hidden!"  
  
There was a rustle of movement. I felt many small hands busily   
piling things on top of me. Was that a blanket? No, more likely it was a   
tablecloth. The tablecloth was swiftly followed by a heap of warm, soft   
dish towels. When I was completely covered up, a small hand gave my   
concealed head a gentle pat.  
  
*******  
  
Sleeping in front of the fire, I dreamed.  
  
The Castle corridor was empty, except for the tall, black-haired   
girl and me. She looked at me and smiled. I held out my hand to her, and   
she took it. Her smile was the only magic I needed to make me want to   
dance.  
  
A foolish dream, but a very sweet one, nonetheless.  
  
Abruptly, I was awakened by new voices in the kitchen. They were   
too deep to belong to house-elves. Wizards...  
  
I could feel them as well as hear them. Their magic overwhelmed   
me, bone-weary as I was. The elder of the two was very old indeed. Age,   
time and many cares had dimmed his strength. Now his power was like a   
bed of smouldering embers.   
  
In contrast, the other wizard's magic was a white-hot, roaring   
furnace.  
  
House elves greeted the pair in squeaky voices. "Good afternoon,   
Headmaster Dippet, sir! Master was not at lunch! He is wanting tea?"  
  
"Hello, Professor Dumbledore! Sir is missing lunch too! Is sir   
hungry? Is sir wanting some hot chocolate?"  
  
Merlin's Teeth... the Headmaster himself! And the formidable   
Transfiguration Professor who had reduced poor Hagrid to tears...!   
  
From the sound of things, they were seated at the table where   
Hagrid and I usually took our meals.   
  
I heard the house-elves fetching them tea, hot chocolate and   
something to eat. Then the little creatures went about their business,   
washing up from the students' lunch. The Professors were left alone to   
talk.  
  
If I'd had even the smallest amount of magical talent I would have   
used it then, to avoid eavesdropping. Spying on the private   
conversations of my betters... well, I knew Mr. Pringle would never   
approve. If the old caretaker ever found out about this, he would have   
the skin off my back.  
  
The Professors scared me even more than Mr. Pringle. If they   
discovered me, I might find myself wishing for the caretaker's relative   
mercy. I tried to keep very still under my nest of tablecloth-and-  
dishtowels.  
  
Headmaster Dippet had just mentioned Hagrid's name.  
  
"...behaving himself," the old wizard said. "No more trouble since   
that last incident? What was it ... a werewolf? Albus, I do understand   
that, in spite of everything, he means no harm. But the safety of the   
students must always be our first concern."  
  
"I agree, Headmaster. Hagrid feels the same as we do. Young as he   
is, he would willingly place himself in harm's way to protect any of the   
students, or any of the staff. When I explained the danger to all   
concerned, Hagrid was considerably chastened."  
  
Dippet sighed. "Albus," he said, in a quavering voice, "I am   
troubled by the notion that the boy needed an explanation in order to   
understand that a werewolf is dangerous."  
  
"Hagrid is so much at home in the Forest," Dumbledore said,   
quietly. "Realizing that the same is not true of everyone is difficult   
for him. His affinity for the wild creatures and places of this world is   
a gift. As with any gift, it may take years for him to study and master   
it."  
  
"A gift, Albus? Perhaps so, but I fear that it is a Dark one. Oh,   
my dear boy, please don't look at me like that. I haven't said that the   
child himself is Dark. But, surely, you must admit..."  
  
"Headmaster, you know I have never believed that Hagrid, or any   
creature of his, was truly responsible for what happened."  
  
Both wizards were keeping their magic and their emotions carefully   
in check. They might disagree, but there was clearly friendship and   
respect between them.   
  
Even so, the strength of their feelings was making their powers   
flare and surge. Aged and diminished as he was, the Headmaster's power   
was still enough to make me flinch. And the incandescence of the   
Transfiguration Master's magic was painful. A soft whimper escaped me.   
The Headmaster and Professor Dumbledore continued speaking, and I prayed   
that neither one of them had heard.  
  
"Albus, you must continue to impress upon Hagrid the profound   
importance of keeping the Forest's creatures IN the Forest." Headmaster   
Dippet was saying.  
  
"Yes, of course I will, sir." Professor Dumbledore replied.  
  
"I know that you're very fond of the boy. But, he's running out of   
chances."  
  
*******  
  
For a time after the wizards had left the kitchen, I remained   
hidden, too filled with guilt and misery to move.  
  
What had I *done?* I should have kept my mouth shut. Why couldn't   
they just beat Hagrid or lock him up in chains? Those punishments would   
have been reasonable. But, the Headmaster sounded ready to have Hagrid   
dismissed...  
  
The boy had no family. Mr. Ogg had said that Professor Dumbledore   
was the closest thing that Hagrid had to a guardian. If Hagrid was   
banished from the Castle, would he lose Dumbledore too?  
  
To be cast out, alone, to starve in the snow...! Poor child. He   
didn't deserve that.  
  
Exhausted and distressed, my work that afternoon was slipshod at   
best. Impatiently, Mr. Pringle boxed my ears. I hardly felt a thing.  
  
Even now, Hagrid had a creature concealed in a cupboard in the   
storeroom beneath the kitchen. He'd denied it of course. Still, I knew   
what I'd heard.  
  
There was really only one thing I could think of to do.  
  
*******  
  
That night, instead of attending to my dusting and sweeping, I   
crept down to the kitchen storeroom. The torch I carried made the   
shadows of all the boxes and bags seem threatening.  
  
"H-Hello...?" I called out, my voice shaking. "I know you're in   
here! `Mosag,' he called you. If anyone finds out that he's keeping you,   
he'll be sent away! You have to leave..."  
  
Silence was my only answer. Nervously, I went deeper into the   
storeroom.  
  
"Mosag?" I called. "Answer me!"  
  
Suddenly, a black shadow rose from the floor, directly in front of   
me. It was huge, monstrous!   
  
Yelling with fright, my heart beating like a snidget's wings, I   
backpedaled frantically. Tripping over a crate of tins, I sat down hard.  
  
A huge hand caught my torch before it could set anything on fire.  
  
"Filch! Shut up, yeh git! D'yeh want ter wake up the whole   
Castle?"  
  
"H-Hagrid?"  
  
"Couldn' leave well enough alone, could yeh? I honestly didn'   
think yeh'd have the courage ter come snooping down here, but I figured   
it was better ter be safe than sorry!"  
  
"Hagrid, you're supposed to be asleep, not lurking in here!" I   
hissed.  
  
"An' yer supposed ter be working upstairs, not sneaking abou'!"   
Hagrid retorted.   
  
When the boy spoke again, his tone had turned plaintive. "Mosag   
never hurt no one, Filch. All she wants is a home an' a family. In a day   
or so, when the snow melts a bit more, I'll take her out ter the   
Forest!"  
  
"No, you've got to take her outside now! I-I heard them talking...   
the Headmaster and your Professor Dumbledore. The Professor defended   
you, but Headmaster Dippet told him that you're running out of chances.   
If anyone finds out what you're doing...!"  
  
"Are yeh going ter tell on me, Filch? Again?" Hagrid tried to   
growl at me but he sounded more scared than angry.  
  
"It'd serve you right if I did! But, no. I'm not going to tell, I   
promise. As long as you take that thing out to the Forest, tonight,   
right now!"  
  
We stared at each other for a very long moment.   
  
Then Hagrid sighed. "Done," he said, handing back my torch. "Help   
me. I need yeh ter find a big empty box, or a nice big sack ter carry   
her in."  
  
There was a large box that was mostly empty of food tins on a   
lower shelf. Stacking the tins on a nearby wooden pallet, I dragged the   
box over to Hagrid.  
  
The boy was crouching in front of a cupboard at the very back of   
the storeroom. He was speaking soft, coaxing words.  
  
"C'mon, Mosag. It'll be alrigh.' I won' let anyone hurt yeh. An' I   
promise I won' leave yeh, not til yer safe with Aragog..."  
  
I heard a rustling movement. And the same strange clicking sounds   
I'd heard this morning.   
  
Curiously I moved my torch closer to Hagrid, meaning to get just a   
glimpse of Mosag. A glimpse was all I got. But it was more than enough.  
  
The creature had a large, round, hairy body. And many eyes   
gleaming. And legs! Lots and lots of long, hairy legs....  
  
I screamed until I ran out of breath. Then I took a great gulp of   
air and screamed some more.  
  
Hagrid put his huge hand over my mouth to shut me up. I sunk my   
teeth deep into his thumb.  
  
"YEEE-OW!" Hagrid bellowed. "Filch, yeh stupid GIT!!! NO, MOSAG,   
I'm alrigh'... DON' HURT HIM!!!"  
  
It seemed that Hagrid's creature was as protective of the boy as   
he was of her. Her razor-sharp pincers gleaming, the beast leaped at me.   
  
Still wailing, I swung my torch at her. Mosag leaped over me, her   
pincers slashing at the arm I'd flung up to protect my head.  
  
Clicking and wailing almost as loudly as I was, Mosag scuttled   
rapidly towards the storeroom door.  
  
"Git!" Hagrid snapped at me, clutching his bleeding thumb. After   
stomping out the torch that I'd dropped on the floor, he hurried after   
his monster.  
  
*******  
  
Hardly aware of what I was doing or where I meant to go, I   
stumbled through the Castle corridors. It was very late. I should have   
been in bed hours ago. I still had work to do. Dusting and sweeping. Let   
Hagrid worry about his awful monster. As long as the creature was safely   
out of the Castle, the poor stupid oaf wouldn't be sent away...  
  
Where was my dustmop? My broom?  
  
Shivering even though I was sweating, I leaned against a wall.   
There was a soft whisper of magic, like a door opening. I tumbled   
through the wall, to land on a soft rug.  
  
Daylight. Sunshine and flowers. The room with the fountain, the   
loom and the tapestries. I was always safe here. The monster couldn't   
get me...  
  
Oh, Merlin, I was going to be sick. Mustn't make a mess in this   
tidy room. Hands pressed over my mouth, I leaned back against the wall   
and fell through again.  
  
Retching miserably, I curled up on the corridor floor. Damp. Cool.   
The dungeons? How had I gotten here? Was I near the caretaker's office?   
I thought maybe I was.   
  
"Mr. Pringle... help me..." I gasped. My voice sounded very faint.  
  
I sensed something then. A whisper of magic. As if another door   
had opened.  
  
Strong emotions accompanied the magic. Elation! Recognition!   
  
Then the joy darkened. Anguish. Traveled Through, yes, but no   
answering Recognition...   
  
Lonely... so lonely...  
  
Feverish, nearly delirious, I wept broken-hearted tears for   
something that couldn't weep for itself.  
  
I wasn't alone in the corridor now. A tall, black-haired boy had   
nearly fallen over me. On the wall at his back was an extremely plain   
tapestry.  
  
"I know you," he said, quite dispassionately. The powerful   
emotions all around us seemed to be leaving him completely untouched.  
  
I sensed that he was overlooking something precious and important.   
But the feeling was too difficult for me to put into words, weak and ill   
as I was.   
  
"You're Pringle's Squib," the boy said. "What's happened to you?"  
Kneeling, he peered into my eyes and felt the pulse in my throat. His   
nose wrinkled at the stench of vomit.  
  
He lifted one of my arms, noting the tear in my sleeve, and the   
gash left by Mosag's pincer.   
  
"Poison, in a defensive wound," he murmured. "When fresh, the   
secretion of an Acromantula has a scent, subtle, but quite distinctive.   
My goodness. How many of those creatures does Hagrid have?"  
  
"No..." I whimpered, frightened at how swiftly he'd figured out   
the huge boy's involvement. It was hard for me to stay focused and   
coherent, but I'd promised Hagrid that I wouldn't tell anyone.   
Making promises was something that I rarely did, but I always tried my   
best to keep the few promises I made...  
  
"Not Hagrid... he didn't... he had nothing to do with..."  
  
"Oh, no. Of course he didn't," the boy said, in a very dry tone.   
Then he laughed softly. "Hagrid may not be nearly as subtle as the scent   
of an Acromantula's poison, but his ...effects are certainly just as   
distinctive."  
  
"Please..." I whispered. "They'll send him away. And he has no   
one..."  
  
"How terribly sad. The world is full of orphans, you know." The   
boy's voice was cold.  
  
I curled into a ball as dry heaves shook me, too sick to go on   
pleading with him.  
  
"Foolish Squib. If you had any sense you would be less worried   
about Hagrid and more worried about yourself," the boy said.   
  
Then he sighed. "Another death in the castle would be most   
inconvenient. The memories are still too fresh. And then there's the   
fact that a certain sharp-eyed, suspicious individual would be bound to   
notice that your symptoms are nothing like those of the first victim.   
Perhaps you're right. Amusing as it would be to blacken Hagrid's name   
further, it would be best to leave him out of this, entirely."   
  
A surge of power from him made me cry out.  
  
"Mobilicorpus."  
  
Gently, I rose from the floor to float in front of him.  
  
"Well, I shall try to look on the bright side. At least you've   
given me another opportunity to play the hero."  
  
*******  
  
"Filch, I'm sorry. I didn' know..." Hagrid said, miserably. His   
face was white. He looked very young and frightened. "I didn' know that   
she'd scratched yeh. They secrete a poison when they're afraid. Yeh   
scared her! She wouldn't have hurt yeh, if yeh hadn't yelled like yeh   
did."  
  
"I scared HER? She scared ME. I didn't want to yell. I couldn't   
help it."  
  
"I suppose yeh couldn't. Poor, silly git." The boy sighed and   
looked at his bandaged thumb, ruefully.  
  
"Hagrid, dear, hold still..." Madam Valerian said, gently. The   
medi-witch was standing behind Hagrid, who was sitting, cross-legged on   
the floor next to my bed.  
  
The school nurse had helped the boy take off his shirt. Now she   
was holding a bowl of water and a soft, clean cloth. She was carefully   
bathing the welts on Hagrid's broad back.   
  
"Hagrid... you told Mr. Pringle what you did... Why...? I lied to   
him for you. I told him that I didn't know where the creature had come   
from! You oaf. They'll send you away..."  
  
Madam Valerian frowned. It was clear that she didn't approve of   
Mr. Pringle's methods of discipline. "No one is being sent away," she   
reassured us briskly. "Professor Dumbledore told the Headmaster that he   
wouldn't hear of Hagrid being sent away, and Mr. Ogg spoke up in   
Hagrid's defense and then Mr. Pringle said that he'd already punished   
the boy quite severely, and it would be a shame to deprive Mr. Ogg of   
his apprentice."   
  
My eyes widened. "Hagrid? Mr. Pringle defended you?"  
  
Hagrid sighed, wincing. "Well, he was in a good mood an' feeling   
pleased with himself, I guess. Bin wanting ter teach me a lesson fer a   
while, hasn't he? The old man finally got his chance."  
  
I didn't mind at all when Pringle thrashed the students. And I   
thought that Hagrid's punishment was well-deserved. Still, the thought   
of Hagrid being beaten was unexpectedly troubling.  
  
"It's alrigh' Filch," the boy said, gruffly, when he saw my   
expression. "It doesn't hurt so much, really. Other things that happened   
las' night bother me more. Of all the people in the castle that yeh   
coulda' picked ter collapse in front of. I wish that yeh'd puked yer   
guts all over him! Though he'd still have found some way ter come out   
smelling like a rose..."  
  
I frowned, thinking of the young wizard who'd found me and brought   
me to the hospital wing. My recollections of the encounter were confused   
and disjointed. I remembered wanting to tell him something important,   
but the memory was gone.  
  
Madam Valerian had finished tending Hagrid's back. Patting his   
dark tangled curls in a motherly way, she stood up to put away the bowl   
and the cloth.  
  
When she went out of earshot, Hagrid leaned closer and whispered,   
"Mosag is safe in the Forest, with Aragog and they're happy. Love at   
firs' sight it was. An' that's what makes everything alrigh' s'far as   
I'm concerned."  
  
I shuddered. "Hagrid... the whole Forest will be full of those...   
things."  
  
"Yep. That's the point, isn't it? They wanted a family. No one   
*wants* ter be lonely, Filch. No matter who, or what they are."  
  
"They're monsters... not people," I mumbled, frowning again. I   
knew that he was right. People weren't the only ones who could be   
lonely...  
  
Madam Valerian was giving Hagrid a pointed look. The boy picked up   
his shirt and stood.  
  
"At least yeh can have a proper rest now, Filch, instead of   
nodding off into yer breakfast tomorrow," Hagrid said, comfortingly, and   
left me alone to sleep.  
  
  
  
End of Chapter Five  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
Unrepentent Reader: Thank you!!  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Hagrid's ability to feel strongly, and yet get   
over things is one of the most admirable aspects of his personality. He   
is a sweetie! Unlike poor Argus who has a very difficult time getting   
over anything.  
  
Yes, the infamous Olive Hornsby would still be at Hogwarts too, wouldn't   
she? An intriguing thought...  
  
Bob says "Hi!"  
  
Re, the house-elves... yes, that scene was taken from my job. (Tomorrow   
is another Delivery day. I can't wait to see what gets mixed up this   
time...)  
  
Andrea13: Thank you!! Yes, young Filch has little experience with good   
natured teasing. He isn't even aware of the concept.  
  
Persephone Kore: Thank you!! Poor Mosag must have been as nervous as any   
other mail-order bride. And Aragog was pretty nervous too. I can picture   
the big spider scuttling nervously around his snowy Forest-hollow,   
wondering what his new bride will think of their home, wanting   
everything to be perfect for her.  
  
Poor Filch... his first encounter with Minerva was terribly humiliating   
for him. Yes, Hagrid is still adjusting to his new position in life.  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! And thank you for letting Madam Valerian come   
over!  
  
Poor house-elves... I hope that the food-orders at Hogwarts don't get   
messed up as often or as badly as the ones delivered to the school where   
I work. I couldn't resist writing that bit about the deliveries.  
  
Yes, Minerva felt sympathy for Filch rather than pity. Filch has trouble   
distinguishing the two.  
  
Mysterious Unsigned Reviewer: Thank you!!  
  
Darklady: Thank you!! Yes, exactly... Filch felt terribly embarrassed to   
have been rescued by a pretty girl. It will be a while before he'll be   
able to look at Minerva without blushing. 


	6. Coming of Age in Dangerous Times

Squib Apprentice  
a Harry Potter fan-fic   
by Ozma  
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts  
Chapter Six: Coming of Age in Dangerous Times  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
  
"Boy," Mr. Pringle said to me gruffly, "I've been too easy with   
you."  
  
He took a deep breath. "From now on there'll be no more working at   
night. All your jobs *will* be finished at a reasonable hour, no matter   
WHO else happens to be about while you're working! Do you understand   
me?"  
  
"Yes, sir," I murmured, twisting my hands together nervously.  
  
The caretaker handed me a list of jobs that needed doing. After   
reading it, I raised my eyes to look at him in apprehension. The first   
item was dusting the portraits along the right hand fifth floor   
corridor. There were classrooms all along that corridor.  
  
I saw both sympathy and resolution in the old man's craggy face.   
  
"Filch, if any of those brats make trouble for you," Pringle   
growled, "you tell me. I'll make 'em sorry!"   
  
This was some comfort to me, but I was still anxious. Swallowing   
hard, I went to start my work.   
  
*******  
  
To my relief, no one bothered me that day, or over the weeks that   
followed. For the most part the students behaved as if I truly was as   
invisible as I was trying to be. Hagrid had been right. The students   
usually had other things on their minds besides tormenting me.  
  
Still, for a while I couldn't help feeling a bit sick whenever I   
encountered a group of black-robed young witches and wizards. Their   
magic whispered and teased at my senses as I moved through the   
corridors. The sensation made me feel both fearful and disapproving.   
Unwilling to give the brats any reason to notice me, I kept silent,   
rarely looking up to meet their eyes. The memory of jeering faces and   
pity glimpsed in an angel's grey eyes continued to be painful.  
  
I became busier than ever. Now, apparently resigned to having a   
Squib for an apprentice, Mr. Pringle began teaching me in earnest about   
the Castle and everything in it.   
  
He gave me notes to study on some of the various magical   
knickknacks located throughout Hogwarts. I read about their histories,   
learning which ones were dangerous to touch, ("always dust *around* that   
vase, boy, it's not exactly Cursed, but it IS very temperamental,") and   
which ones needed to be kept far away from each other. (We had several   
feuding suits of armor, a few portraits who didn't get along and a   
valuable vanishing cabinet with a tendency to make anything small that   
was kept too close to it, vanish.)   
  
Some of the Castle's items weren't what they seemed. There was a   
grandfather clock in the staffroom which was really a shortcut up to the   
Astronomy tower when you opened it and went inside. There was a stained   
glass window in the dungeons which was really a painting. And several of   
the mats in the professor's bathroom on the seventh floor seemed to   
think that they were really flying carpets. (They had a tendency to   
escape and needed to be rounded up with nets and long poles.)  
  
I learned how to assemble suits of armor and restore damaged   
portraits and paintings. To accomplish the latter, I used enchanted   
paintbrushes and specialized cleaning potions. To Mr. Pringle's surprise   
(and my relief) I proved to be not entirely incompetent at it.   
  
The caretaker taught me how to mix simpler cleaning solutions   
myself. Different cleansers needed to be used for stone, metal, glass   
and cloth. Some could be mixed in a bucket. Many were ordered ready-  
made, but others we needed to obtain from the Potions master.   
  
There were always drains to be unclogged and leaky water taps to   
be fixed. Mr. Pringle had plenty of opportunities to instruct me on the   
intricacies of the Castle's plumbing system.   
  
And then there were the never-ending stacks of detention forms,   
which provided me with a chance to learn how to file and organize   
paperwork.  
  
Mr. Pringle didn't have to worry about me going to sleep at a   
reasonable hour. I fell into bed exhausted at night. I was kept too busy   
to worry very much about the students.  
  
*******  
  
In fair weather, Mr. Ogg and Mr. Pringle liked to do their   
drinking outside, on a small hill behind the Castle where they burned   
the rubbish. But on cold winter nights, they could often be found at the   
pub in Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks always had a warm fire and an   
interesting crowd.  
  
Sometimes Hagrid and I were invited to accompany the groundskeeper   
and the caretaker to the village pub. It was a wonderful treat for   
Hagrid. The boy listened eagerly to all the talking. He chattered away   
like an overly large magpie to anyone who seemed friendly. Shy around so   
many strangers, I stayed quiet and kept as close to Mr. Ogg and Mr.   
Pringle as I could.  
  
Mixed in with the amusing stories and the homey gossip about   
doings in the village there were mentions of more sinister things. The   
Dark wizard, Grindelwald was spoken of in hushed whispers. People told   
of deaths and mysterious disappearances. And frightening tales of the   
terrible Muggle war were sometimes told as well.  
  
Soft-hearted, indulgent Ogg might have allowed Hagrid to stay up   
drinking, chattering and listening to stories all night long. But Mr.   
Pringle had firm ideas about the wrongness of young people being   
permitted to stay out so late, whether they were staff or not.   
  
Sternly, Pringle kept track of the passing hours. He made sure to   
let Hagrid and me know when it was time for us to take our leave and   
head back to the Castle.   
  
The caretaker had warmed up to Hagrid. Being allowed to punish the   
boy and reassert his authority over him had mollified the old man   
considerably. And Hagrid's genuine remorse over the fact that I'd been   
injured by his creature hadn't escaped Pringle's notice.  
  
*******  
  
Late one February night, Hagrid and I were making our way back to   
the Castle from the village pub. We were accompanied by Belle and   
Towser, the two large dogs that Ogg kept as pets. Ogg was well-liked at   
the pub and no one objected when he brought the dogs along to see Hagrid   
and me home.  
  
Perhaps I had drunk a bit more than I should have done but I was   
still able to hold our lantern steady. Hagrid, who had consumed an   
impressive amount of fire-whiskey, was lumbering along behind me,   
singing a song he'd just heard this evening. To my irritation, he was   
getting most of the words wrong.   
  
I was trying to decide if it was worth the bother to correct him   
or not, when both dogs stopped and raised their heads. Belle, the bolder   
of the two, growled softly and Towser whimpered.  
  
Almost at the same moment I felt ...something. A cold brush of   
magic, horribly Dark and foul. Suddenly frightened, I wanted to run up   
the road all the way to the Castle, though the pub was much closer.   
  
My body wouldn't move. I halted, shivering. Hagrid bumped into me   
from behind and nearly knocked me down.  
  
"What is it?" he asked me curiously. Then he noticed the dogs.   
Belle's growl had deepened and Towser had his tail tucked between his   
hind legs.  
  
"S-Something's out there! I don't know what it is. Something   
horrible. Over that way..." I held up the lantern with a shaky hand.   
  
Belle and Towser were looking in the same direction. There was   
nothing to see except for the snow-covered hill on the side of the road.  
  
Then to my horror, Hagrid, with Belle at his side, promptly   
stepped off the road and began to crunch uphill through the snow. The   
oaf was going to investigate!   
  
My paralysis left me. I felt very sober indeed.  
  
"No, you idiot! Stop!" I hissed, hurrying after him. I grabbed his   
arm. "Either we go back to the pub, or we go on to the Castle!   
Whatever's out there, it's too much for the likes of us!"  
  
"Yeh don' know that fer certain, Filch. Someone migh' be out   
there, hurt bad an' needing our help!"  
  
Shaking me off as if I weighed nothing (compared to him, I did)   
the huge boy strode off into the darkness accompanied by the still-  
growling Belle.  
  
Caught for a moment in indecision, I clutched nervously at   
Towser's collar with one hand and the lantern with the other.   
  
Well, I couldn't seek the safety of the pub or the Castle now, no   
matter how badly I wanted to! It would mean abandoning Hagrid.  
  
I considered it my duty to look after the boy. It didn't matter if   
Hagrid was bigger and stronger than I was. It didn't matter if he had   
magic while I had none. The young fool wasn't supposed to use his magic.   
I was the elder of us two, and the only one with any common sense! Maybe   
I couldn't do much to protect him, but I had to try. There wasn't anyone   
else around.  
  
Trying not to whimper aloud as poor Towser was doing, I stumbled   
after Hagrid. Much to his credit, the boy did not mock my obvious fear.   
Nor did he tell me to turn back because I was useless. Hagrid is as   
good-hearted as he is foolish. He had never teased me for being what I   
am. Though I'd never told him so, I appreciated his matter-of-fact   
acceptance. It meant more to me than I ever could have said.  
  
I followed Hagrid as he climbed the slippery hillside. The snow   
under our feet had hardened to ice in many places and the ground itself   
was uneven. When Hagrid stumbled, Belle's collar slipped from his   
fingers. The dog bounded off into the darkness, disappearing over the   
top of the hill.  
  
Calling Belle's name, Hagrid started to run after her. I sprang   
forward and grabbed his coat, shaking my head wildly. The Dark magic was   
surging again somewhere very near us, perhaps just on the other side of   
the hill. It was thick, almost enough to choke me. We heard the yelping   
cry of an animal in pain, and then silence.  
  
"Belle!" Hagrid shouted.   
  
He wrenched himself out of my hands and ran, stumbling over the   
crest of the hill. Before he disappeared from view, I saw that he'd   
pulled his umbrella from inside his coat. He was holding it in front of   
him like a sword.  
  
"Idiot!" I thought, my heart pounding, as Towser and I followed   
him.  
  
I heard Hagrid wail in anguish. I had a terrible feeling, even   
before I reached the top of the hill, about what I was going to find.  
  
When I got to the top of the hill and looked down, I saw Hagrid on   
his knees in the snow, clutching Belle's lifeless body. The boy was   
sobbing as if his heart would break.  
  
Nothing else moved nearby. The Dark-magic feeling was fading now,   
but the echoes of it still hung heavy in the air all around us. I   
swayed, feeling ill and dizzy.  
  
There had been someone very Dark here, just moments earlier.   
Someone who had been startled to see a huge, growling dog lunging at   
him, and the noise of people approaching from the other side of the   
hill. Perhaps the Dark wizard had even seen Hagrid's large, threatening   
shape as he'd followed behind poor Belle.   
  
The Dark wizard wouldn't have known that Hagrid was only a boy,   
who wasn't even allowed to use his magic.  
  
Towser nosed Hagrid and Belle and then let out a long, mournful   
howl. Hagrid cried harder.  
  
I was furious, even as the boy's sobs tore at my heart. I wanted   
to shout at Hagrid and shake him until his teeth rattled. If *he'd* been   
the first one to come over the top of the hill...  
  
Turning away from the sounds of Hagrid's grief, I was sick in the   
snow.  
  
It was a little while before I realized that Hagrid was calling   
out to me. He sounded even younger than he really was, and very   
frightened. Wiping my mouth with one hand, I stumbled over to him as   
quickly as I could.  
  
"Filch...?" he said, in a voice thick with tears. "C-Could yeh   
shine yer light over there...?"  
  
For the first time I noticed huddled shapes lying on the snowy   
hillside. Towser was sniffing at one of them.  
  
The light of my lantern revealed what they were.   
  
Corpses.  
  
*******  
  
There were three of them. A witch and two wizards. A Dark Curse   
had killed them, but they'd also been attacked by some creature that had   
torn and mutilated their bodies. I hadn't taken a very good look at   
their remains. The glimpses that I'd gotten would haunt my dreams for a   
long time to come.  
  
The men from the pub had shaken their heads grimly and muttered   
"Grindelwald," in fearful voices when Hagrid and I had stumbled back   
into the Three Broomsticks with Towser and tried to describe what we'd   
found.  
  
This terrible thing, happening on the outskirts of the village and   
so close to the school, horrified everyone who knew of it. The incident   
was hushed up as much as possible.   
  
In the days that followed Hagrid and I were questioned several   
times by different witches and wizards who were investigating the   
murders.   
  
It was eventually determined that the three victims had Apparated   
to the hillside from somewhere else, only to be pursued and killed.  
  
Hagrid and I were told very little. Neither of us were   
particularly inclined to go nosing about for more answers. Hagrid was   
too upset over Belle's death and both of us were numb with shock.  
  
*******  
  
Our questioning took place in the Transfiguration Master's office.   
Professor Dumbledore always stayed with us while we were questioned.   
This time, we'd been joined by Mr. Ogg and Mr. Pringle as well.  
  
"You boys had no business leaving the road!" Pringle snarled at us   
when the questioning was over and the strange wizards had gone. "It's   
not your place to meddle with such Dark and terrible things, either one   
of you!  
  
"What were you *thinking?*" the old caretaker raged. "One of you   
is as helpless as a Muggle and the other one is as brainless as a Troll!   
I ought to beat both of you bloody! Don't you know that you brats could   
have been KILLED?"  
  
I cringed. I'd never heard Mr. Pringle sound so savage. He'd been   
in shock himself over the past couple of days, unusually quiet and   
distracted. Now he seemed like himself, only more so.  
  
"Apollyon!" the Transfiguration Master's deep voice was stern.   
"Hagrid and Filch have done nothing wrong!  
  
"Quite the opposite," Dumbledore continued, his tone softening as   
he looked at us. "Hagrid wanted to aid those in peril and Filch would   
not allow any child in his charge to walk alone into danger. It seems to   
me that you and Ogg have taught your apprentices their proper   
responsibilities most diligently."  
  
Ogg nodded, studying Hagrid with mingled pride and concern, but   
Pringle was still scowling at us.  
  
"With respect, Professor, it still falls to us to keep the pair of   
them safe," the caretaker said, firmly, getting himself under better   
control.  
  
Pringle truly wouldn't feel that he'd done his job unless he   
punished us. The old man looked from Hagrid to me and growled, "There'll   
be no more visits to the pub for either of you, until further notice!"  
  
I wasn't too distressed on my own account. But the dismay on   
Hagrid's already sad face troubled me.  
  
"Filch! Come! We have work to do!" Pringle snarled.  
  
"He'll be along in a moment, Apollyon," Dumbledore promised the   
caretaker. "I'd like a brief word with him first."  
  
The Transfiguration Master was standing with his hand on Hagrid's   
shoulder.  
  
"Don't fret, lad," Ogg said to Hagrid in a gruff, comforting voice   
after Pringle had gone into the corridor. "Apollyon will change his mind   
about the pub in a week or two if I keep at him. And I will."  
  
A few moments later, when Hagrid and Ogg had also left, I was   
alone with the Transfiguration Master.  
  
All of the Professors at Hogwarts were powerful witches and   
wizards, but Dumbledore was in a class by himself. The strength of his   
magic burned with such fierce intensity. He had never spoken a harsh   
word to me, but he frightened me all the same.  
  
"Please, look at me, Mr. Filch. You've been here at Hogwarts since   
September, and I don't think I've ever actually seen your face."  
  
Dumbledore's voice was kind. When I raised my head, he smiled at   
me. "Have a seat," he said.  
  
Nervously, I obeyed.  
  
"What did you wish to speak to me about, sir?" I murmured.  
  
"Hagrid," he said, quietly. "The boy means a great deal to me. For   
now, he has no thought beyond mourning the loss of poor brave Belle. He   
does not realize that you probably saved his life. But I realize it.   
Thank you for looking after him. It isn't the first time that you've   
done so."  
  
Blushing with embarrassment, I stared down at his desk. It was   
terribly cluttered, which made him seem more human and a bit less   
terrifying.  
  
"Hagrid's all right," I said, gruffly. "Maybe he'll have more   
sense when he's older."  
  
I felt brave enough to look at Dumbledore again. His eyes were   
twinkling as if I'd said something amusing. The expression on his face   
was warm and approving.  
  
I felt a rush of pleasure when I thought about what he'd said.   
Everyone had always treated me as a boy, but Dumbledore spoke as if he   
truly saw me as someone grown-up and responsible.   
  
"Sir?" I said, feeling braver still, "perhaps Mr. Pringle is   
right? Maybe it's not such a good idea to allow Hagrid to visit the   
Three Broomsticks? I know the boy enjoys it, but considering what   
happened..."  
  
"You have a point, Mr. Filch," Dumbledore said, gravely. My   
opinion really did mean something to him! "But, Mr. Ogg and I both feel   
that Hagrid needs to find companionship and acceptance somewhere *other*   
than in the Forest."  
  
"Oh," I said, pausing to consider this.   
  
I supposed that he had a point too. It was better for Hagrid to be   
with people than to spend his time playing with werewolves and large   
clicking things that had too many legs.  
  
"A good solution might be if Mr. Pringle and Mr. Ogg would let us   
stay at the pub until they're ready to leave," I ventured. "Three of us   
might have an easier time keeping Hagrid out of trouble. But Mr. Pringle   
would never allow such a thing."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "No, I agree that would not be likely. Though I   
wouldn't be at all surprised if Apollyon lets Ogg convince him that they   
ought to leave the pub earlier to see you and Hagrid home. Poor   
Apollyon. He's blaming himself for what could have happened, you know."  
  
I did know. "He only sent us home early because he was trying to   
look out for us," I said. "It's not his fault."   
  
Frowning, I continued. "I can't tell him so, of course. He'll   
think I'm out of bounds and then he'll punish me. I'll just try to tread   
lightly until he's feeling better."  
  
Dumbledore continued to look at me as if he approved of what he   
saw.   
  
I sat up a bit straighter, pleased that he was interested in my   
opinions. In spite of what had happened and the awful things I'd seen, I   
felt almost happy. Imagine a wizard with all his power, speaking to me   
as if I was someone who mattered!  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER SIX  
  
(In memory of Richard Harris, who was such a kind, comforting   
Dumbledore.)  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
My thanks to Alchemine, whose description of the aftermath of one of   
Grindelwald's attacks provided the inspiration for Filch and Hagrid's   
brush with Darkness.  
  
  
  
My thanks to everyone who reviewed "A Squib Without A Clue!"  
  
  
aniwda: Thank you!!  
  
Aftertaste of a Razorblade: Thank you!!  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! No, Filch hasn't yet been convinced that   
Harry's Cloak exists. When he is convinced, he will keep the promise   
that he made to Snape. (This will happen in the forthcoming story "Squib   
Summer.")  
  
Saphron: Thank you!!  
  
oO WTH: Thank you!!  
  
Alla: Thank you!!  
  
Snapefan51: But Moody wasn't really himself in this story... he was   
Barty Crouch, Junior, who did seem to have too much fun tormenting poor   
Severus.  
  
Fetch: Thank you!!  
  
AET: Thank you!! Filch will discuss the matter of Harry's Invisibility   
Cloak with Dumbledore in "Squib Summer," which will hopefully be posted   
soon.  
  
GeEtErZ: Thank you!!  
  
Shadowycat: Thank you!! I really like your description of Dumbledore as   
someone playing a chess game about ten moves ahead of his opponent.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you, Pardner!!  
  
  
  
My thanks to those who have reviewed Chapter Five of "Squib Apprentice"   
since the last time I said thanks!:  
  
Quoth the Raven: Thank you!! Yes, Tom used a Memory Charm on Filch. It   
may not have been necessary, since Argus was already nearly delirious   
from the poison.  
  
My take on Hagrid's view of Tom is that Hagrid saw Tom as most people   
saw him; the Perfect Prefect and Head Boy who was good at everything.   
Hagrid thinks that Tom just wouldn't LISTEN to him when he tried to   
explain that poor Aragog was innocent. Hagrid's not bitter, but he's not   
too fond of Tommy-boy either.   
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Yes, I can see Dumbledore spending years   
defending poor Hagrid's innocence. Filch's jumbled memories are due to   
the combined effects of a Memory Charm (I should have been more clear   
about that 'surge of power') and the fever.  
  
Did the burst blood vessel in your eye hurt? I don't like shoveling snow   
either.   
  
RADKA: Thank you!! Dippet wasn't a bad person, but he certainly wasn't   
as open-minded as Dumbledore. Yaaaay!!! Filch has his own character   
section now!! I was so happy when I saw that!!  
  
Pringle WANTS to be scary. He was probably beaten a lot as a kid himself   
and thought that it gave him lots of "character."  
  
oO WTH: Thank you!!   
  
Redone: Thank you!! Tommy-boy definitely does underestimate Squibs,   
Muggles, and Muggle-borns, but he used a Memory Charm on Filch so that   
Filch doesn't remember what Riddle told him.   
  
Filch's relationship with Snape when the troubled young former Death   
Eater first returns to Hogwarts? Oooh, that's an interesting thought!   
I'll have to see what ideas come to mind....  
  
Emma: Thank you!! Olive Hornsby was the tormentor of poor Moaning   
Myrtle. 


	7. The Squib and The Cat

Squib Apprentice  
  
(a flashback story about Filch's early years at Hogwarts)  
  
by Ozma  
  
Chapter Seven: The Squib and The Cat  
  
Everything in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
Except for Madam Valerian,   
  
who has Alchemine's permission to come over and play  
  
Apollyon Pringle had taken me to the Forest's edge during my first   
  
week at the Castle.   
  
"Filch," the old caretaker had told me gruffly, "The Forest is no   
  
place for a Squib. Even the most powerful wizards need to keep their   
  
wits about 'em in there. If you're stupid enough to go in and lucky   
  
enough to come out again in one piece, the first thing I'll do is thank   
  
Merlin. And the second thing I'll do is give you the beating of your   
  
life. Have I made my meaning plain, boy?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Pringle," I'd said. "I won't go into the Forest. I   
  
promise."  
  
********  
  
Breaking my word to Mr. Pringle wasn't something I did lightly. I   
  
knew he'd be furious. And I knew that he was dead serious about the   
  
beating, too. I'd never wanted to break my promise. The Forest   
  
frightened me. It was the last place at Hogwarts that I wanted to go.   
  
But this was a matter of life and death.  
  
Cradling Miss Gerrity's limp, battered body in my arms, I hurried   
  
through the trees. It was early spring and the new leaves overhead   
  
weren't enough to keep the damp rain from falling on us.  
  
Miss Gerrity's small heart was still beating, however feebly. I   
  
had wrapped my coat around her in an attempt to keep her warm and dry.   
  
Then I hurried as carefully as I could over tree roots and uneven places   
  
hidden beneath last year's dead leaves.  
  
It was afternoon but the Forest was gloomy on such a miserable   
  
day. Maybe the moon-pale glow of the unicorn I'd just glimpsed would   
  
show up brightly against this murk? I hoped so.  
  
"Please stay with me," I begged the cat in my arms. "Don't die..."  
  
********  
  
For months I had thought of her as 'that stray.' A lean, foul-  
  
tempered veteran of many fights, lacking an eye and most of a tail. An   
  
surly feline slinking around the Castle's grounds, hissing at anyone who   
  
came too close. Including me.  
  
Many of the young witches and wizards in the Castle had cats.   
  
There were cats everywhere, inside the Castle and prowling the grounds.   
  
Sleek cats, well-fed, well-groomed and obviously well-loved.   
  
The stray wasn't one of those. It was an outsider who belonged to   
  
no-one. The creature avoided staff and students alike, dodging the   
  
brats' occasional kicks and the stones that were sometimes thrown in its   
  
direction.  
  
The winter just past had been a hard one, especially cold and   
  
snowy. Sometimes during the winter, while working or walking outside, I   
  
had caught glimpses of the stray. I had seen that the cat's lean body   
  
was becoming increasingly skeletal.  
  
"Mark my words, Filch. One day soon, Mr. Ogg will find that beast   
  
stretched out dead in the snow," Mr. Pringle had said gruffly, following   
  
my gaze.  
  
I had thought of old Gerrity then, the Squib my parents had known.   
  
A vagabond, an outcast, a homeless tramp. He'd died of exposure years   
  
before I was born, killed while sleeping out of doors by an unexpected   
  
snowstorm.   
  
From that moment on, the stray became 'Gerrity' to me. And I   
  
wanted Gerrity to live.   
  
Determined, I had filled my pockets with choice morsels of meat   
  
from the Castle's kitchens. And fillets of broiled fish, soft, moist and   
  
tender. Or fried fish, crisp and golden-brown. Always taken from my own   
  
plate so that no-one could accuse me of stealing. Wrapped carefully in   
  
napkins, carried outside as I kept my eyes always peeled for a glimpse   
  
of Gerrity.  
  
Though the creature was starving, it had taken time before it   
  
would accept the food I offered. I had learned to approach very slowly,   
  
to leave the food on the ground and then back away. Far away at first.  
  
After I'd been feeding Gerrity for a week or so, I had finally   
  
been allowed close enough to note that 'Miss' Gerrity was the proper   
  
form of address.  
  
********  
  
So Miss Gerrity had survived the winter and I had been glad. But   
  
there were dangers beyond winter storms and slow starvation. Miss   
  
Gerrity was fierce enough to hold her own against kicking, stone-  
  
throwing brats. But against Hexes and Curses, she was as defenseless as   
  
I was.  
  
********  
  
When I'd found her this afternoon, I'd been sure she was dead.   
  
She'd been lying nearly hidden in the grass by the rubbish heap on the   
  
hillside behind the Castle.   
  
I had come outside with a wheelbarrow full of broken old chairs.   
  
Mr. Pringle wanted them burned when the rain stopped. It was the stench   
  
of Dark magic that had caught my attention.  
  
At first I didn't recognize her. Then, to my horror, I did. Her   
  
single golden eye was wide and staring, her back looked like it might be   
  
broken, her legs were twisted at impossible angles. Most of her patchy   
  
grey fur had been Cursed off.  
  
Too shocked for tears, I thought of the Dark wizard who'd killed a   
  
witch, two wizards and Hagrid's dog, Belle only a month earlier. Was   
  
this more of his handiwork?  
  
Maybe, but probably not. I had felt the edges of the Curse that   
  
had killed poor Belle. Her death had been swift; her life taken by a   
  
single powerful Curse. This Dark magic was a combination of Curses and   
  
Hexes. A cruel experiment, perhaps. Or maybe just target practice? The   
  
echo of the Dark magic around poor Miss Gerrity made me feel sick.   
  
Broken-hearted, I sat on the damp ground beside her body, my head   
  
in my hands.  
  
*******  
  
I knew that soon Mr. Pringle would come to see what was keeping   
  
me. Rainy days like this one always made him especially bad-tempered.   
  
Damp weather really made his bones ache. What would he say to me,   
  
neglecting my work to sit here, grieving, next to a dead cat?  
  
How I'd hoped to truly earn Miss Gerrity's trust someday. How I'd   
  
hoped she'd let me pet her. My hand trembled as I rested it on her   
  
relatively undamaged belly. Evidence that she'd been on her feet,   
  
fighting for her life for as long as she could. Poor brave cat.  
  
I thought she'd be stiff. She wasn't. She wasn't cold either.  
  
Was that a heartbeat?  
  
********  
  
I thought of taking Miss Gerrity into the Castle to Madam   
  
Valerian, the school Nurse. But Mr. Ogg's cottage was closer and he was   
  
the one who tended the outside animals. He could call Madam Valerian   
  
through his fireplace.   
  
Poor Miss Gerrity was so hurt so badly. I doubted that Ogg and   
  
Madam Valerian would be able to save her. But even a slim chance was   
  
better than nothing.   
  
Taking off my coat, I wrapped it around her as carefully as I   
  
could. Tenderly I carried her towards Ogg's little house. The swiftest   
  
way was to follow along the edge of the Forest.  
  
When I saw the pale shape of the Unicorn through the trees, my   
  
breath caught in my throat. The Unicorn was the loveliest creature I had   
  
ever seen. For an instant, even my sorrow ceased to matter.  
  
And then I remembered the healing magic in the touch of a   
  
Unicorn's horn. Perhaps, I thought, Miss Gerrity's chances weren't so   
  
slim after all?  
  
********  
  
Chasing after a Unicorn is no easy thing, even under the best of   
  
circumstances. Certainly not while cradling a dying cat in one's arms.   
  
But as long as the Unicorn's milky gleam was within my sight I felt   
  
confident and unafraid.   
  
Of course the Unicorn was much too swift for me. Once I could see   
  
it no longer and I came back to my senses, I realized that Mr. Pringle   
  
had been right about the Forest. It was a dreadful place.   
  
Old, Wild magic clung to my hair, my skin, my clothes. It made me   
  
itchier than the vines and creepers I'd been unable to avoid. The Magic   
  
buzzed in my ears like a horde of persistent insects. It tickled the   
  
inside of my nose like a sneeze that wouldn't come.  
  
Eventually I realized that I had managed to lose both the Unicorn   
  
and my way back to the Castle. The gloom beneath the trees was beginning   
  
to darken into twilight and I hadn't even brought a lantern. Exhausted,   
  
bruised and scratched, I realized that I was very hungry because I   
  
hadn't eaten since breakfast.  
  
I had done one incredibly stupid thing after another. Mr. Pringle   
  
was surely going to kill me. Assuming that I lived long enough for   
  
anyone to find me.  
  
Worst of all, this journey had probably done poor hurt Miss   
  
Gerrity more harm than good!  
  
Cradling her in one arm, I stroked her belly gently. To my relief,   
  
she was still warm and alive. To my astonishment, she answered me with a   
  
deep purr!  
  
********  
  
  
  
A short while later I was lucky enough to find us shelter inside a   
  
hollow tree. There was just enough space for me to sit, holding her on   
  
my knees. It was damp and chilly, but at least the rain wasn't hitting   
  
us.   
  
I rested my hand on her belly again. She was still breathing,   
  
thank Merlin.   
  
Her endurance and tenacity humbled me. I would rest for a bit, and   
  
then I'd continue to hunt the Unicorn for her. I would try very hard not   
  
to be afraid.   
  
  
  
And then something large moved in the gloom nearby! My heart   
  
slammed against my ribs as I curled protectively over Miss Gerrity.   
  
"Little man! Are you the one called `Filch?'" It was a deep voice,   
  
one I'd never heard before.   
  
I could tell that the speaker was cross and impatient but I   
  
couldn't tell if he was human. His words were perfectly understandable,   
  
but they were underscored by a faint clicking sound.  
  
"I have helped to search for you, for Hagrid's sake," the voice   
  
said. "He is my good friend, though I have no great concern for   
  
*you,*... the wretch who frightened my dear wife with a torch!"  
  
"P-Please, sir," I faltered, hoping my guess about his identity   
  
was wrong. "There must be some mistake! I don't go about attacking   
  
ladies..."  
  
"Her name is Mosag." The voice managed an impressive growl.  
  
Oh, Merlin. I wasn't wrong. Among Hagrid's monstrous friends were   
  
a pair of giant spiders. I'd already had a brush with the female, Mosag,   
  
and this was the male! Whimpering, I held Miss Gerrity close against me.   
  
Then I heard the cat hiss. In the gloom I saw that her head was   
  
turned in the direction of the deep voice. What remained of her fur was   
  
bristling. If she had the courage to fight, could I do any less?  
  
"You'd better not try to eat her!" I told the spider. "I won't let   
  
you!" My voice only quavered a little bit. I was proud of that.  
  
"I prefer my meat untainted by Curses, thank you very much," the   
  
spider retorted testily. "And I promised Hagrid that I would not eat   
  
you. Now, be quiet and come along. I will bring you to him."  
  
There was a rustling noise. I didn't see the long, hairy leg   
  
reaching towards me until I felt its touch.  
  
I screamed. Trembling all over, I pressed back against the inside   
  
of the tree. "NO! Don't touch us!! We're not going anywhere with you!"   
  
Shielding Miss Gerrity as best as I could, I reached out of the   
  
hollow space, frantically feeling about for anything that could serve as   
  
a weapon. Discovering a fallen tree-branch within my reach, I slammed it   
  
down on the long, hairy leg.  
  
The spider yelled in pain.  
  
"Ungoliant take you, ungrateful wretch!" the spider snapped,   
  
withdrawing its leg. "Wait here then! I will tell Hagrid where to find   
  
you. And you had better hope that nothing comes along and eats you   
  
before he arrives!"  
  
********  
  
Should I have trusted the spider? Maybe it had told the truth   
  
about fetching Hagrid, but maybe it had really gone to fetch its mate so   
  
they could share a cozy dinner for two! I couldn't decide whether to   
  
take Miss Gerrity and run, or stay where we were.  
  
I was still undecided when Hagrid arrived a short while later.   
  
When the huge boy knelt down to peer inside the hollow tree, I nearly   
  
brained him with the tree-branch.   
  
"Git!" Hagrid snapped, though he sounded relieved to find me still   
  
in one piece. "Why'd yeh have ter be so rude ter poor Aragog? He was   
  
jus' trying ter help."  
  
"You sent a M-MONSTER after me!" I choked.  
  
"Nobody knows the Forest like Aragog," Hagrid said, sounding as   
  
exasperated as his spider-friend. "Well, 'cept fer me an' Ogg, a'course.   
  
We needed all the help we could get. Even with Ogg, Pringle, some of the   
  
professors an' me all searchin', it was still Aragog who found yeh   
  
firs'."  
  
What terrible trouble I'd caused! Mr. Ogg and Mr. Pringle out   
  
searching for me, and even some of the Professors too. I felt wretched.  
  
"Is Mr. Pringle very angry?" I asked miserably.  
  
"What d'yeh think? He's beside himsel'," Hagrid said, regarding me   
  
with sympathy. "Wouldn' want ter be in yer shoes when he gets his hands   
  
on yeh."  
  
I gulped.  
  
"Well, c'mon, Filch. Yeh might as well get it over with. Up yeh   
  
get."  
  
"No. Not yet. Miss Gerrity needs a Unicorn."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Miss Gerrity." I tugged back the corner of my coat to show him   
  
the battered cat in my lap.  
  
Hagrid had brought a small lantern. He lifted it to study her.   
  
Then he sighed. "I recognize that one. Foul-tempered stray. Jus' as soon   
  
scratch yeh as look at yeh. Didn' know yeh'd named her."  
  
"I've been feeding her too. I don't care if she's foul-tempered. I   
  
like her that way!" Furious, I tried to ignore the stinging tears in my   
  
eyes.  
  
"Summat's bin after the strays this year, on an' off. The ones   
  
nobody'll miss. Ogg an' me, we've found a few dead ones. Don' know   
  
what's bin killin' 'em. Terrible business." Hagrid sounded sad, no doubt   
  
thinking of poor Belle.   
  
I shuddered, afraid for Miss Gerrity. "Well, someone would miss   
  
her if she died, even if that someone's only me!" I snapped.   
  
"Yeh never do things by half, do yeh?" Hagrid said, wryly. "Firs'   
  
time in the Forest and most a' the staff's out looking fer yeh already,   
  
an' now yeh want ter stop and hunt unicorns?"  
  
"It's not like there aren't any about!" I told him. "There was one   
  
right on the edge of the Forest this afternoon. I chased it until I got   
  
lost."   
  
Hagrid's voice managed to be both gruff and gentle. "It's no easy   
  
thing ter catch a Unicorn. Takes time an' skill, not ter mention luck.   
  
An' Pringle's gettin' more worried an' furious by the minute."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry. He can punish me later. This is too   
  
important."  
  
The pity in Hagrid's face made me so angry that I wanted to punch   
  
him. My fists clenched, but I didn't want to let go of Miss Gerrity.  
  
I opened my mouth to say something rude, but Hagrid interrupted.   
  
"At least yeh don' want ter actually catch the beast, yeh jus' want ter   
  
ask a favor. Makes things simpler.  
  
"It'll be quicker if I help yeh."  
  
Suddenly, punching the boy was the furthest thought from my mind.  
  
********  
  
Hagrid was very young, but I soon realized that he'd probably   
  
forgotten more about unicorn-hunting than most people ever knew.  
  
I don't know how long I spent following him through the trees with   
  
Miss Gerrity tenderly cradled in my arms. Sometimes Hagrid would motion   
  
for me to wait for him while he scouted ahead. I checked on Miss Gerrity   
  
while I waited. She still lived. When I stroked her belly, she even   
  
purred at me. It was the most wonderful sound in the world.  
  
********  
  
Hagrid motioned for me to stop in a place where the trees were   
  
huge and very old. Even the Wild Magic was still and respectful here.  
  
"I don' know if she's the same one that yeh saw, but there's a   
  
Unicorn who loves these trees, an she's jus' ahead. I'll go left an' yeh   
  
can circle around from the right. She'll try ter avoid us but there's a   
  
ravine blockin' her way. We should be able ter make her stay still long   
  
enough fer yeh ter show her yer cat and ask fer her help. But yeh'd best   
  
be polite about it, Filch. They're sharp, Unicorn horns."  
  
*******  
  
With a ravine at her back and Hagrid and me closing in on her   
  
front, the Unicorn was cornered. Tossing her horned head gracefully, she   
  
snorted and pawed at the leaves with one delicate cloven hoof. Hagrid   
  
was right about the horn. It looked dreadfully sharp.  
  
"H-Hagrid?" I asked, feeling very nervous. "What should I do?"  
  
He sighed. "Talk to her, nice an' gentle."  
  
"I don't know what to say!"  
  
"Well, yeh'd better think o'summat quick before she charges at   
  
yeh."  
  
"That's not much help!"  
  
"Yer welcome. Next time, Filch, yeh can find yer own bloody   
  
Unicorn."  
  
I would have glared at him, but I was afraid to take my eyes off   
  
that horn.  
  
Carefully I knelt and placed Miss Gerrity gently on the ground.   
  
She was too weak now to purr when I stroked her.  
  
My gift for fine words is about the same as my gift for magic. I   
  
hoped that plain words would be enough. I wished that Miss Gerrity had a   
  
friend more eloquent than I to speak for her, but I would have to do.  
  
"Look at her," I said to the Unicorn. "She doesn't deserve to die   
  
like this."  
  
"Filch," Hagrid scolded, reminding me of my manners.  
  
He was right. The Unicorn appeared unimpressed.  
  
I tried for a slightly softer tone as I studied the Unicorn.   
  
"Madam... I've been taught that I should try to fix whatever my hands   
  
have the skill to mend. I wish I could mend her, but my skills are very   
  
small next to a power like yours."  
  
Well, honest flattery seemed to be effective. The Unicorn was   
  
looking a bit less fierce now.  
  
"You're the only hope she has," I continued even more softly, my   
  
voice cracking, my heart aching. "You're very beautiful and you look so   
  
kind. I can't imagine that you would really leave this poor cat broken   
  
and dying when you have the power to mend her. If you could bear to turn   
  
your back on her when she's suffering, ...well, you wouldn't be much of   
  
a unicorn, that's all I can say."  
  
"Filch!" I heard Hagrid groan. "What a way ter talk ...can't take   
  
yeh anywhere."   
  
"I don't want anything else from you," I told the Unicorn. "If you   
  
heal her, I promise I'll go away and not trouble you again."  
  
Unable to think of anything else to say, I stood slowly and backed   
  
away. Hagrid put his hand on my shoulder, catching me before I could   
  
trip over my own feet. Poor Miss Gerrity rested on the ground before the   
  
Unicorn, like an offering.  
  
The Unicorn stood still for a moment, regarding Hagrid and me.   
  
Then she looked down at Miss Gerrity. Gracefully, she came forward,   
  
lowering her head until the horn rested gently on Miss Gerrity's still   
  
body. I felt a surge of Old Magic.  
  
********  
  
Purring, Miss Gerrity rubbed her head against my face. The   
  
Unicorn's touch had not been able to restore either her missing eye or   
  
the lost part of her tail. But her legs and her back were straight and   
  
whole, and patchy grey fur covered her thin body once more.  
  
"Who's my brave one? Who's my sweet?" I crooned. "Look at her,   
  
Hagrid. Isn't she the sweetest cat you've ever seen?"  
  
"Yeh don't want an' honest answer ter that, do yeh?" Hagrid asked   
  
me wryly. The boy was studying Miss Gerrity with interest. Especially   
  
her large, sensitive ears and what there was of her tail.  
  
"Filch, I don' think she's a cat. I mean, not exactly. She's a   
  
Kneazle."  
  
He punctuated this pronouncement with a loud sneeze. Miss Gerrity   
  
hissed at him, looking affronted.  
  
"Are you sure?" I bit my lip, anxiously.   
  
The boy gave me an exasperated look. Of course he was sure. Hagrid   
  
knew his magical creatures.   
  
"I'll need to have a license for her then! But Mr. Pringle is the   
  
one who gets them for the students if they need one... the application   
  
forms are in his office. What if he says I can't keep her? What if he   
  
won't get me a license?  
  
"Someone tried to kill her. They might do it again. Miss Gerrity   
  
can't be a stray any more. She has to be mine, for real." My voice   
  
shook.  
  
Miss Gerrity rubbed her small head against my chin and purred.  
  
"She's not a stray any more, Filch," Hagrid said, gruffly. "She   
  
already belongs ter yeh fer real, license or no license. Don' worry so."  
  
********   
  
  
  
The first person that we encountered was Professor Hellebore, the   
  
Herbology teacher. She used her wand to send a jet of bright red light   
  
skyward, to let the other searchers know that I'd been found.  
  
Cuddling Miss Gerrity, I followed Hagrid and Professor Hellebore   
  
out of the Forest. We emerged near Mr. Ogg's hut.  
  
I had put Miss Gerrity down to follow at my heels. Mr. Pringle was   
  
among the group of people who stood waiting for us.   
  
The caretaker's face was ashen. True to his word, the moment he   
  
set eyes on me he gasped, "Filch! Thank Merlin!"   
  
Then he gave me a clout on the head that made my ears ring. "You   
  
ungrateful brat!! Do you have any idea what you've put me through   
  
tonight?"  
  
Actually, I could guess. The caretaker's magic was never very   
  
powerful at the best of times. Nevertheless, the strength of his   
  
distress was making it flare and surge.  
  
"Do you know what one of my worst nightmares is, boy? That someday   
  
I'll have the sorry task of writing to your mum and dad, trying to   
  
explain how I let their boy get himself killed!" He shook me, hard. "All   
  
the time I've been searching, I've been thinking about that letter!"  
  
He gave me another clout. "You could have been eaten up by   
  
werewolves or goblins! Ripped to pieces by harpies! Carried off by   
  
trolls! What were you thinking?"  
  
"I-I'm sorry, sir," I gasped when he stopped to breathe and I   
  
could finally get a word in edgewise.  
  
I didn't regret saving Miss Gerrity, of course. But I did feel   
  
truly dreadful about how much I'd frightened him.  
  
"Well, you're not as sorry as you're going to be!" Pringle   
  
snarled. "Not by half!"   
  
He grabbed my arm. "Come along, boy!"  
  
Looking back over my shoulder as I was dragged towards the Castle   
  
I saw Hagrid looking after me sympathetically, and Miss Gerrity trotting   
  
along behind the caretaker and me.  
  
********  
  
After I'd been beaten, the caretaker sent me to bed without   
  
dinner.   
  
Miss Gerrity had not left my side. When I lay down on my stomach   
  
in bed, she curled up next to me.   
  
I'd been afraid that she might attack Mr. Pringle while he was   
  
punishing me, ending any remaining chance that I'd be allowed to keep   
  
her. But, though she had fixed the old caretaker with a most evil and   
  
unfriendly glower, she'd made no move against him. I was relieved that   
  
she was wise enough to see how things were.  
  
"He can have me dismissed if I make him angry enough," I   
  
explained, just to be sure she understood. "I hope I haven't already   
  
made him so angry that he won't let you stay here with me... don't want   
  
to lose you again. Maybe tomorrow is too early to ask about a Kneazle   
  
license, but I can't put it off for too long. It's the law, you see."  
  
I shut my eyes and tried to rest, but I was worried and my back   
  
ached.  
  
A short while later Madam Valerian knocked gently on my door, then   
  
came in to check on me. While she soothed my back with Cooling Charms,   
  
she agreed that Miss Gerrity might not be beautiful, but she was a fine   
  
Kneazle nonetheless.  
  
My sweet one regarded the medi-witch with something approaching   
  
approval and the nurse gave me a potion to help me sleep.   
  
"You're safe now, Filch. What's troubling you?" she asked.   
  
"Miss Gerrity needs a..." I murmured.  
  
"Is that all? Don't worry, dear. It's taken care of," Madam   
  
Valerian comforted me.  
  
Drowsily, I struggled to keep my eyes open. What? Did she have a   
  
spare Kneazle license application form lying about?  
  
I heard the whip-crack sound that announced the arrival of a   
  
house-elf. Blinking sleepily, I saw Browly setting a medium sized pan of   
  
earth down in one corner. I felt the strong Deodorizing Charm that   
  
someone had put on it.   
  
Oh! Of course, Miss Gerrity needed *that* too. I felt grateful to   
  
Madam Valerian for thinking of such things.  
  
A second house-elf, Nonny, arrived with a bowl of cream and a   
  
plate piled high with table scraps. She set them down in a different   
  
corner.  
  
"Apollyon Pringle is saying 'Argus Filch is in Disgrace... we is   
  
not to make a fuss over bad boy' but Apollyon Pringle is never saying   
  
that we is not to make fuss over boy's Kneazle," the house-elf pointed   
  
out, triumphantly.  
  
********  
  
I was allowed to sleep until lunchtime the next day but there were   
  
still jobs for me to do when I got up. Stiff and sore, I had to move   
  
slowly as I dusted the cases in the trophy room and polished the   
  
trophies.  
  
Miss Gerrity was curled in a shaft of sunlight nearby. No one   
  
would ever call her beautiful (well, no one except me) but life in the   
  
Castle seemed to agree with her thus far.  
  
  
  
The house-elves had given her a large breakfast which she had   
  
attacked with gusto. It had pleased me to see her eating well. While I   
  
worked, I considered what I would say when I asked Mr. Pringle about her   
  
license.  
  
"Mr. Filch? Might I have a word?"  
  
Turning too swiftly for comfort, I winced at the pain in my back.   
  
It was Professor Dumbledore. Deep in thought, I had not heard him   
  
enter. How long had he been standing there?  
  
"Good afternoon, Professor," I murmured.  
  
I looked at him for a moment then I stared down at the floor.  
  
The usual twinkle in his eyes was absent as he studied me. With a   
  
rush of shame, I realized that the Transfiguration Professor had very   
  
likely been out in the rain for hours, searching the Forest for me last   
  
night. No wonder he was angry at me. He was the only person at Hogwarts   
  
who treated me like an adult. Disappointing him was something I hated to   
  
do.  
  
"I'm very sorry, sir. About what happened. I know what I did was   
  
very wrong. I won't go into the Forest again, ever."  
  
"Last night is over and done with, Mr. Filch. There is no need for   
  
you to be troubled. And, according to Hagrid, you and he had a most   
  
interesting time."  
  
I didn't know how to respond to that. Hopefully, Hagrid had had   
  
enough sense not to mention the fact that he still fraternized with   
  
giant spiders. I didn't want the oaf to get himself in trouble on my   
  
account.  
  
"Hagrid mentioned that you are quite concerned about getting a   
  
Kneazle license for your Miss Gerrity. Last night I spoke to Mr. Pringle   
  
on your behalf. Your application was owled this morning."  
  
I looked up swiftly. He was smiling at me.  
  
"Oh! Professor Dumbledore, thank you, sir! I-I don't know what to   
  
say!"   
  
A bit more softly I asked, "Did Mr. Pringle offer any objections?"  
  
"Not a one. He could tell that Miss Gerrity had already chosen to   
  
keep YOU, and he quite approved. Kneazles are loyal and intelligent. He   
  
thinks that she will be a most excellent companion for you."  
  
('The brat could do with a full-time keeper' was probably closer   
  
to what the caretaker had said, but it didn't matter.)  
  
Miss Gerrity had come over to rub against my ankles. Somewhat   
  
gingerly, I leaned down so I could pick her up and give her a cuddle.  
  
"Mr. Filch," Professor Dumbledore said quietly. He sounded grave   
  
again. "Your actions last night were not as bad as you seem to think.   
  
"Yes, the rules must be respected and one's superiors must be   
  
obeyed," he agreed, anticipating my protest. "But it would have been a   
  
greater wrong to allow a fellow creature to die. You did what you   
  
thought was best, and you accepted the consequences bravely."  
  
Blushing, I rubbed under Miss Gerrity's chin.  
  
"Mr. Ogg has kept the Headmaster informed of the deaths among the   
  
Castle's strays. We hope to find the person or people responsible, but   
  
thus far we have not been successful. Last night your actions   
  
demonstrated that an assault on any creature, even a little animal who   
  
seems completely unwanted and vulnerable, can cause quite an uproar.  
  
"Mr. Filch, I do not consider that a bad thing. Not at all."  
  
********  
  
When my Kneazle License arrived in the post, Mr. Pringle presented   
  
me with a frame to put it in.  
  
Thanking the caretaker, I promptly framed the document, then   
  
studied the results.  
  
"Mr. Pringle...?" I asked timidly. "When you filled out my   
  
application, did you intend to write 'Mrs.' Gerrity, instead of 'Miss?'"  
  
"Yes, boy. It's an old rule. Lady-cats are always 'Mrs.'"  
  
"Why?" I asked.  
  
"Is Mrs. Gerrity your first cat, Filch?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
He grinned. "Well, it's spring. Don't worry. You'll understand   
  
soon enough."  
  
The End 


End file.
